Smoke and Mirrors
by SvenKV
Summary: OC-Sent to investigate a human colony after what seems like a common batarian raid, a turian Spectre finds himself at the center of a conspiracy lead by someone he always thought he could trust. Haunted by his violent past and pursued by an enemy far stronger than he, Decimus may be forced to commit the atrocities that continue to weigh down on him all over again.
1. Just Routine

_**If anyone is wondering what's going on with 'Here at The End of All Things,' I am completely and utterly lost on how to continue that story. So, to keep my mind working, I decided to draw up an original story, with an original cast, set in the MEverse. HATEOAT may continue later, but for now, I'm focusing on this.**_

_**Anyway, this story is rated T for some rather graphic violence and language. I don't think it's enough to warrant an M rating, but still, read at your own discretion. **_

* * *

_**Falacrine, colony Judea, Skyllian Verge**_

_**23:00 local time, December 20**__**th**__**, 2165**_

A cloaked figure hastily made his way across the alleyway. Thick with paranoia and with nothing but moonlight to guide his path, he stopped as he reached the sliding door at the end of the stretching alley, the holographic panel glowing orange. Cursing under his breath, he rapped on the door three times, each strike with more frustration then the last. Here in the lowliest areas of Falacrine, the people generally gave each other space, but without any streetlights, the cloaked man could almost feel curious eyes burning into his back.

Finally, the door slid open, and before he knew it, he was staring down the barrel of a heavy pistol. The cloaked man stepped back slightly, but didn't waver.

"What was the first thing our fathers told us upon birth?" The pistol's owner growled.

"Stay strong, stay angry, and don't trust any idiot because they say you can."

With a grunt, the man inside lowered his weapon.

"I thought you were going to leave me in the rain, Sanike. Bad enough you bring me to this filthy human planet. Is it ready?"

Sanike, a batarian, nodded, and gestured for the cloaked man to enter his domain. They made their way through a thin hallway, before emerging into a small living room, empty other than a round table and some chairs. Six other batarians sat around it, grumbling as they played cards. When they saw their new guest, they all rose, gathering up their cigarettes and playing cards to make way for their new visitors.

The cloaked man nodded, and the six men eased up. Seating himself at the end of the table, he removed his cloak, revealing he too, was a batarian. After Sanike mumbled at the tallest man in the room to watch the door, he turned on the small holoscreen at the end of the table, a shadowy figure appearing on its interface. All four of the batarians at the end of the table's eyes scanned the figure thoroughly. Usually, the formerly cloaked man, the leader of the small group of mercenaries, was perceptive, but the figure on the screen had been careful to keep their identity hidden.

"Dorik." The figure's voice rang out through a heavy filter. "Is your team ready?"

Dorik grunted. "We are. Are you sure we have the necessary clearance?"

"You should be able to get into the capital with no hassle. I've made sure of it."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Dorik snarled, leaning forward on his chair. "I don't like it when employers speak through synthesizers."

"Revealing my identity would jeopardize the operation. I wouldn't have went through the trouble of smuggling you into Falacrine if I was going to stab you in the back."

Dorik stared hard at the screen, before nodding. "Fine. I trust the credits will be transferred into each of our accounts?"

"You will be payed sufficiently. Get it done. We've discussed the details before. Out."

The screen flickered off, and Dorik rose. "Birkash, get the shuttle ready. We head out in ten minutes. Be ready."

* * *

_**The Citadel, Council Chambers, Widow**_

_**14:00 Citadel Time, December 21**__**st**__**, 2165**_

Decimus Maxus, a Turian Spectre, was growing _very _impatient. He was standing outside the Council Chamber, leaned up against a wall as he watched impatient pedestrians lining up to see the Council. Usually, he wouldn't have to wait with every commoner on the Citadel. As a Spectre, he could simply identify himself and go. But for reasons unknown, his Spectre status wasn't authorizing. After two hours of waiting in line, he had almost considered leaving. Maybe whatever glitch that was preventing his clearance would be gone in the morning. But then he reminded himself whatever the Council wanted, it could be important. As the prestigious groups' right hand, he didn't have the luxury of ignoring their calls.

Finally, he reached the front of the line. A salarian budged by him, mumbling something quickly under his breath. The Council had rejected whatever it was he had proposed, Decimus guessed. Making his way up the stairs and past the C-Sec guards, he sat down in front of the Council's booth, overlooking his small platform. After a few minutes of bickering, the Council finally took notice of him.

"Decimus?" Tevos, the Asari Councillor, asked. "What are you doing in this line?"

Decimus shrugged. "Some sort of bug. Didn't recognize my Spectre status."

She frowned, but said nothing more. The four screens behind them flickered to life, three displaying the faces of the Council, and one showing Decimus. His skin was unusually dark for a turian, charcoal black with red clan markings climbing up his mandibles, nose, and fringe.

"In that case…" Karden, the turian councillor, boomed in his usual loud monotone. Beckoning for the audience to leave, he fixed his eyes on the younger turian seated below him. The turian councillor always gave off an intimidating aura, with piercing amber eyes and markings much like Decimus'. Usually, anyone presenting themselves to the Council would cower under Karden's gaze. However, Decimus had become used to his father's demeanour.

The Maxus family was a long line of politicians and diplomats, without much military blood besides the mandatory years in the Hierarchy. When Decimus had become an officer and later a Spectre, his father had not approved. Due to Decimus' career path, him and his father shared a cold and strained relationship. However, the turian Councillor wouldn't let this bad blood show in the Council meetings.

"We'll make this quick, Decimus." Biseen, the salarian began. The image behind her changed from her stoic expression to a small garden world. "Approximately twenty four hours ago, a settlement on the planet Judea was attacked. It's a human colony in the Skyllian Verge."

"I'm sure the Alliance knows. Why call me?"

Karden shook his head. "Officially, Judea is a neutral ground between the batarians and the humans. If the Alliance moved a large force in, it could start a war that neither we or the Alliance want."

"I assume that means we have leads then?" Decimus asked, rising from his seat.

"Not leads." Tevos replied. "We have an exact location of those responsible. A trusted contact delivered it to us. We just need you to get there and finish them quietly. I'm sending the details to your omni-tool."

Decimus nodded, pulling up his wrist and skimming through the details. He would look at them more in depth later.

"Got it." Decimus said.

"Your Spectre status should be fixed by the time you get there." Tevos said with a nod. "This Council meeting is adjourned."

* * *

_**Falacrine, colony Judea, Skyllian Verge**_

_**17:00 local time, December 22**__**nd**__**, 2165**_

Decimus downed the final bit of liquid in his cup, before scanning the room again. He was told to look for the Councils' contact in this seedy little bar in the lower reaches of Falacrine, the colonies capital. Judea was blooming with natural resources, making it a common gathering place for races of all sort. However, it was a human colony first and foremost, meaning the majority of this bar's clientele were members of the smooth-skinned race. Decimus wasn't particularly fond of humans; he had fought in the First Contact War, but unlike some of his turian brethren, Decimus kept his mistrust to himself. Officially, humans were his allies. He preferred to remember that rather than the small scuffle that was the Relay 314 Incident. They did have some terrible dextro liquor, however.

Decimus had been told to look for a 'tall Caucasian human male with long brown hair.' He had absolutely no idea what that meant, so he hoped this contact knew who he was looking for. Despite having no clue on the human's physical appearance, he had dug into this contact's files. Kevin Hossle, former Alliance, dishonorably discharged for drinking while on duty, now a retired member of the Blue Suns mercenary group, and since his retirement, he'd done some questionable things, such as assisting batarian terrorists. An odd person for the Council to place faith in, Decimus had to admit. But he would have to believe them.

_Psst!_

Decimus' gaze snapped to the side at the sound. A human man was standing by the bar's door, beckoning for him to follow. Decimus nodded, placing a few credit chits in his cup before setting off to follow who he assumed was Hossle. The turian stepped out into the rainy street, turned the corner, and was greeted by the man, in a small four wheeled vehicle, gesturing for the Spectre to join him.

Decimus crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Before I do anything I need to know who you are."

The man sighed, stepping out. He had the brown fur typical of humans on his head and face, and he was tall for his race. Assuming the growth on his head was hair, this man matched the description the Council had given. Decimus still had no idea what Caucasian meant, however.

"Name's Kevin Hossle. Former Alliance. Council told me to tell you that 'the eternal spirit guides all, from the glorious kingdom of Phaeston.'"

_He left out the fact he was Blue Suns, and worked with terrorists…_Decimus noted. However, his passcode was correct, so the turian nodded, and made his way into the man's vehicle.

The rover's side seat had a broken window, hastily patched up with plywood. The driver's side, however, was perfectly unscathed.

_I won't be able to see where we're going…._Decimus noted, yet again.

"Sorry if you can't see. Damn kids broke the window. You know, the Council never told me who you were." Hossle said, as if reading his thoughts. Decimus looked at him with a glare. He didn't know much about human expression, but the fact that he refused to make eye contact had to mean something. Hossle turned at his gaze, holding out a hand, expecting him to shake it and introduce himself. He did neither. An awkward break of silence followed.

It was a relatively short drive, with neither of the men speaking much, other than the occasional question shot off by Decimus, still suspicious of this supposed 'trusted source,' intent on catching him off guard with something he couldn't answer. Hossle was hiding something, that much he was sure of. This thought had Decimus loosening his pistol's holster just slightly.

When they had finally arrived, Hossle got out of the vehicle with more haste than was necessary. This notion caused the turian Spectre to slide his weapon completely out of it's holster, but fortunately, didn't need to. Hossle had parked the rover on top of a hill, overlooking a small collection of alleys and apartments. To an outsider, this would seem like a perfectly normal community. Or a perfect place to hide.

"This is the poor district of Falacrine. I've asked around. There's been no suspicious activity recently, so the place shouldn't be well guarded, at least on the outside. I'd guess a dozen or so people." Hossle said, pointing towards the small condo which Decimus assumed his quarry was using as a hideout. "Good luck, Decimus."

_Funny, I don't think I ever introduced myself…_

* * *

_**5 hours later….**_

Decimus had waited until Judea's moon was completely concealed behind the distant mountains before he made his move. He was a patient man; he had to be, if he managed to sit in this same spot for five hours, staring at the condo door in search of movement. Only one person had come out of the building in that time, a cloaked figure who had sped away in a skycar soon after. Not before Decimus had noted his license plate and car model, however.

When the small terrace was finally covered in absolute darkness, he lifted his sniper rifle off its sling on his back and shouldered it, focusing it's crosshairs on the condo's door. He had decided to bring nothing but the Hierarchy standard issue HY87 Legionary Sniper Rifle for this task, along with his usual M-77 Paladin heavy pistol. He had to buy the rifle after he arrived on Judea; his Spectre status was still bugged. The Paladin, however, had been easy enough to smuggle across spaceports.

The building's front yard was still clear, so he stowed his rifle back onto its sling, fastened his night vision goggles, and quickly yet quietly made his way down the hill, careful not to draw any unneeded attention.

The small slum seemed deserted. Most people would see this as an advantage. Decimus, however, saw it as a hurdle. He knew that there were at least a dozen people in this community, and the severe lack of noise meant that the slightest misstep would be heard two dozen meters away, and without crowds, he'd stand out like an elcor in a strip club to anyone looking out their window. Luckily, time in the turian Black Watch had taught him a thing or two about hiding in the open; stay low, stay in the shadows, and judge whether or not you're in anyone's line of sight.

Walking on his toes, he finally reached the condo's doorway. Unfastening his pistol from its holster, he settled down by the door, listening in through the window directly above him. At first, he heard nothing, but after his ears adjusted to absolute silence, two voices became apparent.

"Good thing Hossle tipped us off about this guy. We even know who he is?"

"Decimus Maxus, boss says. Former Turian Black Watch, now a Spectre. Famous for dismantling a batarian spy ring member by member a few years back." A second voice said.

"He'll be coming alone, he said. After we deal with him, we can get the hell off this damn planet. Boss only left an hour ago and he's probably half way to Camala. All his goods too." A third voice chimed in, sounding irritated.

_So Hossle was dirty, and the guy leaving must have been their boss. Three confirmed hostiles so far. I'll take care of Hossle later._

Taking a breath, Decimus slowly reached out with his omni-tool, placing it on the orange panel in the center of the door. It uploaded a virus that would mimic the unlock code, opening it without setting off any alarms. When it was done, he slid the door open, silently creeping into a hallway.

Before moving any further, he scanned the area. It was dimly lit, probably candlelight, with no visible traps or radars. Cautiously, he stepped forward. When no alarm sounded, he continued.

The fact that this place was lit at all when they knew he was coming was an obvious sign he was dealing with idiots. The candlelight would give him shadows around corners, making remaining undetected that much easier. That is, if he managed to stay out of sight.

When he had heard the voices through the window, he guessed they were coming from this room, on the right side of the main hallway. He had thought correctly; three men, all batarians, stood with their backs turned, staring at a door, which Decimus guessed was the rear entrance to the building. They had expected him to come in through the back.

This furthered Decimus' conviction that whatever group this was were a bunch of amateurs. Anyone smart would have stationed at least a few guards at _every_ entrance, not just the most likely one. Despite their obvious lack of skill, he'd still rather avoid alerting anyone else in the building.

The man farthest from Decimus coughed, giving him the perfect opportunity to lunge forward, unclipping his knife from his boot, and plunging it into the nearest batarian's neck. Just as he had planned, his companion's cough had suppressed his final gag before blood filled his trachea, leaving his next target completely oblivious to Decimus' presence. Setting the body down, he crept forward further, this time throwing the knife at the back of one batarian's neck, and lunging forward, giving the other a punch to the vertebrae, breaking his spine, and finally cutting his life short with a quick neck snap. The batarian with the knife in his neck was alive, but as Decimus had intended, the blade had blocked his windpipe, and the only sound that came out of him was a slight gurgle. Decimus was quick to give him a similar death to his partner.

Scanning the room quickly, he dragged the three batarians into the darkest corner he could find, making a mental note to search them later. He crept back out, down the hallway again, and slowly made his way up the staircase, careful not to misstep or set off a creaky floorboard.

Just as he had expected, the candlelight gave him a shadow to work with. To the left at the top of the staircase was a room, and judging by the shadows, three more hostiles occupied it. Quickly, he darted up the stairs and into the nearest visible cover, a closet. Peering out of it, he saw at least one of the guards inside was facing his way. Holding his breath, he unfastened the closet's handle, and gently tossed it at a door across from his hiding place. The slight knock it made as it bounced off the hardwood floor caught the attention of the merc facing him, and he left his post to investigate.

Decimus took this opportunity to creep up behind the batarian, tapping him on the shoulder so he turned, before giving him a sharp jab to the windpipe, collapsing it. He fell backwards, and Decimus closed the bathroom door, locking his choking victim inside. Taking this time to scan the area, he saw the only room left in the condo was the one he had spotted the shadows in.

Priming a flash grenade, he settled down next to the door, counted to three, and tossed it through the now unguarded door, making sure to shield his eyes. When he heard it go off, he sprung up, kneeing one of the batarians in the stomach before taking out his pistol and lodging a bullet in between another one's lower set of eyes. The last batarian standing turned, a shocked expression on his face, before he too fell over, his life cut short by a bullet in his forehead.

Decimus watched him fall to the ground, before turning his attention to the batarian he had intentionally left alive, a look of pity on his face. He might have kicked him a little harder than he meant to.

"So," Decimus said, rolling the wheezing merc over. "Your boss. What's he taking to Camala?"

The batarian spat at him. "G..go to…"

"I might just let you live."

The batarian laughed, but then went into a spasm of coughs. "You think I'll believe that?"

"Think about it. You're curled up on the floor like this, and I've got a gun. If you don't tell me, you're dead. Why not take that small chance of survival while you can? It's the only door that's open."

The batarian sighed. "We're just a…diversion. The boss used us to cover up for the kidnapping. He's got a messenger coming by to make sure we took you out."

_Kidnapping? The Council said the colony was attacked…_

"Kidnapping? Kidnapping who?"

The batarian shook his head. "I don't know. I'm just a damn gun for hire. The boss is part of something bigger. Much bigger. He's got a Spectre on his side, even. They gave him clearance to government buildings."

_A Spectre?_

"Tell me everything else you know."

The batarian coughed. "That's all, I swear! Can I go?"

Decimus shook his head. "I can't have you going around telling everyone about my investigation here. I need to stay silent for now." He got up, and held his pistol to the man's head. "I take no pleasure in this, trust me."

"Wait-n-!" The batarian's terrified plea was cut off by a bullet.

Decimus stood still for a second, considering what this batarian had told him. Not only had the Council lied about this colony being attacked, but looking at his file, there was no way they could have believed Hossle could be trusted. Had they wanted him to get to the bottom of this, or was he set up? He wasn't willing to believe the Council was behind it for now, they probably just followed a faulty lead.

At the moment, he was more interested in figuring out exactly _who_ was kidnapped and why. If a Spectre was involved, it must have been someone important. And right now, the best course of action was to simply sit down, and wait for that messenger to arrive.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_

_**Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :)**_


	2. Et tu, Spectre?

_**Falacrine, Judea, Skyllian Verge**_

_**05:00, December 23**__**rd**__**, 2165**_

Sanike Dah-Ola, a Batarian weapons dealer, mercenary captain, and now millionaire, was furious.

After their last job, four and a half a million credits were waiting in his account. That money could be spent on a new shuttle, a new home, hell; he could probably buy an entire colony if he wanted to. He could quit, and live a life of luxury and relaxation until he was rotting in the ground. He was now one of the wealthiest Batarians in the Verge, and here he was, in this damnable human colony, because Dorik insisted on it.

"There's a Spectre snooping around here, Sanike." The older Batarian had insisted. "When he backs off, you can do whatever you please. But for now, I need you to make sure he doesn't have a trail to follow."

"That wasn't part of the job!" Sanike had snarled back. "We went in, got it done, and got out. That's all we were hired for, that's all we should do!"

Dorik had remained calm, tilting his head to the side. "I know. But our employer is powerful. If he gets tracked down because of us, we're dead men. Your credits won't matter then."

Sanike snorted. After a long moment of contained frustration, he had nodded. "Fine. But when this is over I'm going on a damn vacation." He was even more furious when he learned a quarter of his share was being sent to a human.

So, Sanike had spent the last day tying up all the loose ends of their operation. He had a messenger on his way to see if their decoy for the Spectre had worked, and a few assassins were killing off known witnesses. Anyone who might give him away.

Sanike had also dug into the Spectre who was investigating. Spectre files were top secret, but luckily, their employer was a Spectre as well. He'd managed to forward him everything he knew about their pursuer.

Decimus Excidius Maxus. Turian bastard. Son of Councillor Karden, disowned. 36, Former Black Watch Captain, with some questionable actions since his Spectre induction. Such as killing an innocent who stood between him and his target, Vannor Morta, a well-known Drell smuggler. By doing that, he'd made two young children orphans. Judging by how heavily classified that mission report was, Decimus had tried very hard to cover this incident up. Not well enough, it seemed.

According to his employer, Decimus had mentally blocked most of this out. Through meditation and work, he had successfully eased all the emotional scars he may have held once. But that didn't mean he'd forgotten. And Sanike fully intended to use this to his advantage.

Closing the Spectre's personal files, Sanike rose to his feet. After a series of calls, he stepped out onto his balcony, staring out at the human colony before him. His private manufacturer, Ola-Tan Industries, owned a plant in Judea's richer area. Being one of the company's highest ranking officials, he enjoyed the luxury of a full room, sweeping view, and free room service, all in the safety of the Ola-Tan office building. Not that it mattered. If the Spectre managed to track him down, security wouldn't matter.

Sanike smiled. He knew Decimus would find him eventually. He was counting on it.

And he was going to enjoy it when he did.

* * *

_**Falacrine, Judea, Skyllian Verge**_

_**06:00, December 23**__**rd**__**, 2165 **_

Decimus had done a thorough search of the condo before settling down to wait for the messenger. None of the Batarians had anything too important on them, but he had managed to find a business card of the merc group this unfortunate bunch had belonged to. The Crimson Marauders, a small group privately funded by Ola-Tan industries. Decimus knew their work. While inexperienced, they were well armed, with one of the finest weapons manufacturers in the Verge funding them. The lead wouldn't be much use if they had no idea who employed them, but it was worth holding onto nonetheless.

When the building had been fully searched, he had settled down at a window, waiting patiently for his new quarry to arrive. The messenger was taking longer than he had expected; six hours he'd been sitting here, staring intently at the darkness, waiting until he saw the slightest sign of movement. It was only when Judea's sun crept up from behind the mountains again did anything happen at all. A small rover, battered and dented, pulled up in the condo's driveway, a human man stepping out of it, cautiously checking over his shoulder at every step.

_Hossle._

Decimus rose from his chair, slung his rifle back over his shoulder, and crept down the stairs. He was eager to get back at the human bastard for double crossing him, but if he was sent here by the group's boss, he might know something useful. He would have to be taken alive.

Decimus settled down in the small niche at the bottom of the stairwell, intent on catching Hossle by surprise. He'd hid the batarians' bodies well enough; he wouldn't catch sight of them and flee. With luck, he'd simply think the mercs had dealt with him, then packed up and gone home. He was correct; after briefly peeking through the window, Hossle slowly eased the door open, cautiously making his way down the scarcely lit hallway. He hadn't gone two meters when he was knocked back by a sharp blow to the side of the head.

Hossle stumbled backwards as Decimus lunged forward again. He delivered a sharp jab to the stomach before wrapping his hands around Hossle's throat, pushing him into the door, causing it to slam shut behind him. Hossle briefly caught Decimus' hawk-like eye before going into a state of panic, letting out a series of distressed cries in vain hope that someone would hear them.

"Nobody is going to hear you, you filthy backstabber." Decimus snarled, tightening his grip around Hossle's neck. "Your batarian pals made sure this place was soundproof."

Hossle's eyes widened even more at the turian's words, and he began to squirm and flail even more. For the sake of convenience, Decimus threw him to the ground face first, twisting his arm behind his back and slowly applying pressure to it. It stopped the flailing, but his panicked screams persisted.

"Listen, you want to get out of this with half the bones in your body intact, don't you?" The turian growled, leaning in to hiss in the human's ear. "You're acquainted with the leader of the batarians responsible for the kidnapping. Who is it?"

There was a brief moment of bitter silence, until Hossle finally groaned. "I don't know. I don't work for them."

"Is that right? Then what the hell are you doing here? Why did you tip them off?" He started to apply more pressure to his arm, almost enough to snap it off. The human beneath him began to squirm again, so Decimus eased the pressure slightly.

"I don't work for them, god damnit! I just helped them." Hossle muttered through clenched teeth. "I'm just a petty forger. I make fake identities for anyone willing to pay. I have no idea who hired me. All I know is they paid a lot."

"Why would they need you then?" Decimus asked. These batarians had a Spectre on their side, getting a forger to help them seemed pointless.

"They didn't get me to do much. They just wanted someone with knowledge of the area. Sent me a lot of credits for it."

"Why would the Council hire you, then?"

Hossle shook his head. "Hell if I know. Council gave me a good bit of creds, too. They wanted me to lead you here, so I did it."

Decimus tried to find anything insincere in his statements, but found nothing. For good measure, he applied as much pressure to his arm as the bone would support, making him shriek in pain, but when this produced no new confessions, he gave up.

Decimus frowned. This interrogation got him nowhere. He was usually successful with these sorts of things, but this one had gotten him no leads, no names, and no locations. He had absolutely nothing to work with. He remembered the license plate he caught on the fleeing car; but that was useless. If its driver was headed to Camala, then they probably turned the car in. He could go directly to the capital building and ask for a log of recent visitors, but his Spectre status was still bugging out; any attempt at accessing classified government files would probably result in him being arrested. And Decimus had no intention of being arrested. He had no intention of waiting for his Spectre status to work again, either.

He hadn't noticed Hossle crawl out from under his knee and towards the door during these thoughts. Almost absent mindedly, he raised his pistol and fired, catching Hossle in the femur, right as his hand was on the interface. He toppled over, cursing out loud and clutching his knee in agony.

Seeing the grubby, pitiful human rolling on the ground gave Decimus an idea. Hossle had specifically said the credits were _sent _to his account, not given to him in person. Assuming he hadn't wiped the data, the location the credits were sent from should still be logged in his account, in theory.

"Give me your omni-tool."

Hossle looked up at him with eyes full of hatred. "Go to hell." He spat, still clutching his shattered kneecap.

"Give it to me or I'll put a bullet somewhere much worse than the knee!" Decimus spat, raising his pistol again.

Hossle sighed. "Shit!"

He obviously knew where Decimus was going with this. He'd intentionally left this out of the interrogation. Maybe he wasn't as pathetic as he'd initially thought.

With one final sigh, Hossle tossed him the small device. Decimus turned it on, flicking through all his questionable files until he found his credits log.

_$100,000 – Citadel Council, Cycle 12, Orbit 47, December 21__st__, 2165_

_$300,000 – Ola-Tan industries, 213 Avalon Way, Falacrine, December 20__th__, 2165_

_Deposit to Fornax subscription, $150, Omega, Cycle 14, Orbit 36, November 12__th__, 2165_

Ola-Tan industries. He already knew they were involved at least slightly, but whoever hired Hossle was working directly with those responsible, and that someone worked for Ola-Tan. That meant someone in the industry was involved. Probably the company's boss, looking at the generous amount of credits they sent. He did a brief scan of the omni-tool for anything else that might help him, but found nothing. The credits log was set to expire in two hours, so after making a mental note of the address, he tossed it aside.

"You're not gonna get in, you know." Hossle grumbled, still on the ground. "The head of Ola-Tan is throwing a party. Heavy security, and they've been told to be on the lookout for a Spectre."

Denying a Spectre access to anything was illegal; it was becoming more and more obvious the head of Ola-Tan was a criminal. Not that his Spectre status would've done him much good anyway. It was still bugged; if he tried to authorize it, he'd be arrested on the spot for impersonating a member of the enigmatic group. Once again, being arrested wasn't a priority.

"Well, maybe you could help." Decimus finally sneered, looking down at Hossle with contempt.

It took a moment for the wounded human to realize what Decimus was asking.

"Shit."

* * *

_**Ola-Tan industries, Falacrine, Judea, Skyllian Verge**_

_**14:00, December 23**__**rd**__**, 2165**_

The krogan bodyguard stared at Decimus through narrowed eyes, looking him up and down before nodding with a grunt. Decimus lifted his thumb off the scanner, and the massive creature stepped aside to give him entry. Decimus returned his nod in acknowledgement, and made his way through the large double door, and into Ola-Tan industries' main hall.

Hossle had agreed to forge him an identity. They needed someone in the party's guest book, so they knocked out the first turian they found in the parking lot, and set Decimus' ID so that when scanned, the unconscious turian in front of them would show up, rather than Decimus. It was crude; and Decimus had to admit, he felt a little guilty about stealing an innocent's identity, but it was only temporary.

What Decimus didn't feel guilty about, however, was tying Hossle to the chair of the rover, arming it with explosives, and pocketing the detonator. If Hossle purposefully messed up with his fake ID and he became a criminal, he would become a smoking crater in the ground. Decimus figured this trade-off would seal their bargain well enough.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the Ola-Tan building was the noise level. Decimus' quarry had a good thing going here; they'd hired some good entertainment. A human band Decimus had heard a few times was blaring loudly on a stage, tucked away in the corner of the lobby. A couple of scantily clad asari dancers swung around on an elevated central platform, a crowd of fawning humans gathered around them. The whole place was completely darkened, a couple of blinking neon lights were all that illuminated the large room, making everyone appear to be a silhouette until Decimus' eyes adjusted to the flashing colors.

He was posing as Junius Albinus, a turian millionaire well known in the Terminus Systems. For this purpose, he would say he was someone else if the need arose. He couldn't risk his cover being blown if somebody recognized him as an imposter.

When Decimus' eyes were adjusted well enough, he made his way to the bar in the far left corner of the room. He had no idea who ran this party, but the bartender probably did. The man behind the counter was another turian, probably the only one in the whole room besides Decimus. He tried to hold back the pro-turian side of his mind, but he had to admit, the presence of another one of his kind was comforting.

"What can I do for you?" The bartender asked, stowing his tablecloth beneath the counter.

"Any idea where the owner of this place might be?" Decimus asked, leaning on the counter. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music and the crowd.

The turian at the bar shrugged. "Haven't seen him all day. Why?"

Decimus twitched one of his mandibles, a turian sign of insecurity which he desperately tried to hide. "I have a…business proposal for him."

The other turian furrowed the brow of his bony carapace in suspicion, before nodding, accepting his claim. "If you need to find him, he'll be in his office. Go up the stairs at the far side of the room, next to the stage, and to your left."

Decimus nodded. "I appreciate it."

He pushed off the table, setting off towards the stage as directed. The human band became steadily louder; Decimus had to filter it out to avoid a headache. When he finally reached the staircase that would take him to his destination, the two batarians standing guard held up a hand in warning.

"This area is restricted. Please turn back sir."

Decimus briefly considered knocking them out. He could do it, but that would panic the crowd and alert security. While the turian Spectre could hold his own in a straight up fight, his time in the Black Watch had made him preferential to a more stealthy approach. Get in, get the job done, and get out before anyone notices you were there. Starting a riot in this crowd wouldn't do him much good anyway; an excited crowd was easier to run through than a terrified one, and his quarry would flee as soon as the alarm went off.

"My mistake, sorry." Decimus finally apologized, turning around to melt into the crowd of patrons and out of the guards' lines of sight. He needed to get through, but do so in a way that wouldn't send every officer in the building down on him. He considered setting off a fire alarm, but decided against it. That would do exactly what he was trying to avoid; the anxious crowd would attempt to flee, and the congestion would make escape much more difficult. Glancing to his left, he caught sight of a batarian man, clearly drunk, telling a story to an equally intoxicated elcor. An idea struck him.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he approached the table. The crowd concealed him just enough so the elcor wouldn't see him approach, and quickly, he jabbed his hand out at the batarian's drink, toppling it over and spilling it onto his lap.

"You bastard!" The man snarled at his elcor companion. He rose from his chair, flailing an arm in the massive alien's direction.

"With a tone of undeniable superiority: Hit me harder. I dare you!"

The small scuffle worked, the two batarian guards left their posts to separate the two angry customers. In that time, Decimus slipped past them and up the stairs, disappearing around the corner before anyone realized he was gone.

The bartender's directions led him to an elevator. At first, he thought he had been misled; but then he realized his target's office had the entire top floor just for it. The elevator was slow; it took almost five minutes for it to ascend all six storeys and slide open, revealing a narrow hallway, an old fashioned gold-knobbed door sitting intimidatingly at the end of it.

Decimus closed this distance quickly but quietly, intent on listening through the knob before bursting in. He waved his omni-tool around the room, disabling any security cameras, and then settled down next to the golden handle, pushing his ear against it. When he heard nothing, he slowly eased the door open, careful to avoid any unnecessary noise.

At first glance, the room was completely deserted. Papers were scattered over a few desks, drawers were torn out, their contents piling up on the hardwood floor. Despite looking vacant, Decimus knew better than to jump to conclusions. He drew the pistol he'd concealed beneath his overcoat, raising it and scanning the room. Only when he confirmed he was the room's only occupant did he lower it.

The only useful looking item in the entire room was a terminal, placed in the centre of the largest desk. It was still on; a blinking orange light indicating it was in standby mode. Decimus opened it, bypassing the user code with a virus, and hastily began downloading every file on the computer. He wasn't sure what he'd find, but it was the only potential clue in this room, and he was sure as hell going to take it.

The download was at fifty percent when it suddenly stopped. The download progress tab was replaced by an image of a batarian, a cigar clutched between his fingers, staring hard at Decimus with all four eyes.

"Hello, Spectre." The man said, with a slight chuckle. "Did I interrupt?"

"I assume there's no use asking who you are?" Decimus barked. He wasn't going to give the batarian the pleasure of seeing his surprise.

"So impolite. I was simply making conversation!" He chuckled more audibly this time. "But I guess that's not your thing, is it, Decimus?" He spat out the last word like it was an insult.

"You know who I am?"

"Oh, I know all about you, Spectre. Your pal told me all about you." He gave him a quizzical look, and then grinned. "Well, maybe not quite your pal."

"What do you want?" Decimus snarled. He knew he wasn't going to get any info out of the man on the terminal, so there was no point drawing out this conversation.

"You see Decimus, I'm not a savage man by any means. Neither are you. If I told you this building was set to blow, would you finish downloading that data, or would you rush off to disarm it?"

Decimus balled his fist in anger. He knew exactly what this batarian bastard was trying to do. He was playing on his weaknesses, trying to appeal to his sense of honor. The man on the screen had dug into his record, learned about the case with Vannor, and all the other innocents he'd killed for the greater good. He knew he regretted every single one, and was trying to make him seem like the villain here.

"Well, I'm telling you that now, Spectre. The explosives are in the office below you. This terminal is set to force reset in five minutes. If you go, you'll lose everything here."

Decimus glared at the man in anger. Judging by his stoic expression, he wasn't bluffing.

"I'll hunt you to the edge of the galaxy, you sick son of a bitch."

The batarian smiled cryptically. "We'll see."

His image disappeared, replaced by a tab entitle 'RESUME DOWNLOAD?' The batarian wasn't kidding; the terminal was scheduled to do a full system reset at 14:35, five minutes from now.

He stood still for a second, considering his next move. This download would take four minutes at least. The elevator trip down to the explosives would take half a minute. He doubted he could disarm them in thirty seconds.

With a sigh, he resumed the download. His omni-tool lit up as the files transferred onto it. They would need to be decrypted; he would forward them to the Council for that. For now, he simply sat, staring at the ceiling as the download finished. He was sacrificing at least fifty living, breathing souls for a megabyte of data. For data that might not even be any good.

When it finally beeped to indicate it was finished, he rose to his feet quickly. There would be about one and a half minutes left on the explosives' timers. The elevator would take half of that, and he didn't have the time. He bounded down the stairs, counting under his breath the whole way. He wouldn't make it if he tried to escape through the party; the crowds would take too much time to traverse.

Instead, he vaulted through a window as soon as he reached the second floor. He hit the ground with a roll, closing his eyes just in time to shield them from the blinding light that followed. All six storeys of the building blew out, one collapsed entirely, sending the floor above it smashing down, hurling smoke and debris into the air, drowning out the terrified screams inside. Decimus backed away from the burning wreck, coughing and blinking the dust out of his eyes. When he finally opened them, the building was nothing but a burning pile of concrete and steel.

"Help…please!" Came a weak cry.

Decimus looked around for the call's source, a young human woman, crawling out of the wreckage, her body charred and bleeding. She must have been in the nearby bathroom when the explosion went off. She was halfway out the open security door when a burning piece of rubble fell from the ceiling, landing on her leg and snapping it with a brutal _crack!_

Decimus stood still, staring blankly at where the woman was moaning in pain, his amber gaze fixed on her burned form. Saving her would require entering the burning facility and risking injury by a piece of debris, similar to the screaming human a few yards away. He had no intention of being burned alive, or leaving with any broken bones. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Decimus backed off, turning around and limping his way through the parking lot.

He blocked out the woman's screams for help, staring blankly at his feet as he made his way to Hossle's rover. He tossed his pistol into a nearby ditch, he wouldn't need it anymore. He was going to send the data he'd found to the Council, then get the hell off this planet.

He reached Hossle's rover, sighing as he opened the side door and settled down in the passenger's seat. It took him a moment to realize Hossle was gone, the explosives he set on his chair as well

_No point going after him…_Decimus thought. _Slimy bastard has no real connection to the case. You'd be wasting your time._

As the turian slid into the driver's seat and started the rover, a barrage of thoughts hit him. He grimly wondered how many innocent lives had been lost today because he chose this data. He wondered whether his conscience would ever rest easy again. Would this be like the Vannor case all over again?

But most of all, if that screaming, burning body in the wreckage had been a turian, would he have saved her?

The thought lingered in the back of the Spectre's mind the whole trip back.

_**To be continued…**_

* * *

_**Reviews would be greatly appreciated, anything helps. :)**_


	3. Wounds new and old

Decimus hadn't been here for eight years, but recognized it at once.

The air was thick and smoggy due to orbital bombardment, blotching out the sun and creating a dense fog of black smoke, so much that gas masks were required to breathe. What was once a vast tundra is now a cemetery for burning buildings and bodies, a result of the turian fleet's vicious assault. Despite ceasing their fire on the planet, the debris they hurled from atmosphere was still burning, adding to the charcoal-colored haze.

_Shanxi._

Decimus didn't usually visit the past in his dreams. In fact, for the past eight years, he wasn't sure he'd dreamed at all. He was always so focused on his job or so sleep deprived his nights were usually instantaneous. Why did that change?

"Hold on," he whispered, raising a hand. The voice was his own, but he hadn't said it. It was as if he was a prisoner in his own body, forced to watch as his body acted without his consent. "I see something."

He was starting to remember this day. He and his small team of Black Watch Operatives were moving across the northern continent, searching for any stragglers from the bombardments that had temporarily ended four days earlier. Most of the humans on the ground had surrendered after the turians' massacre, but some were still fighting, and it was Decimus' job to clear them out. Usually, they wouldn't send a Black Watch team for this job, but the majority of the invasion force was holding down the major city centres, leaving them as a last resort.

This unplanned occupation had come at a cost, however. The turians hadn't counted on the human General's surrender; from their previous observations, they were vicious, determined creatures who would fight until nothing but bones and dust were left. Because of this, their food exports were critically low, and no dextro-based food was on Shanxi, so Decimus and his small team of four had to ration whatever they had brought with them; and after four days of uninterrupted travel, their stocks were almost gone.

Their current state of malnutrition was obvious as Leeandras, the youngest and most inexperienced of his small team, groaned from his aching stomach as he crouched down at Decimus' order. He would've usually snapped at the rookie, but his pain was understandable enough that he ignored it.

Decimus locked eyes with Allovera, beckoning for her to move forward and scan the area. She nodded, reaching for a pair of binoculars and training them on the silhouette of a building, now in plain sight.

"Small settlement. Only four buildings. Thermal scans aren't showing anything." She whispered, before stowing the binoculars away in her small backpack.

Decimus nodded. "Alright. Leeandras, stay here and give us sniper support. Anything that's not us moves, kill it. Allovera, Brennus, with me."

The three turians jogged forward, crouched down and on their toes, closing the distance between the village and the hilltop in a matter of seconds. This was all routine; Brennus was in the front, shotgun in hand, while Allovera and Decimus covered his blind spots. They crept up the stairs of the nearest building, crouching down on the small balcony. The place certainly seemed deserted; Decimus could hear every single member of his team's breathing, which would make stealth even more difficult, if anyone other than the four turians were actually in the small settlement.

Brennus eased the door open, before leaping inside and aiming his shotgun at every inch of the building. Decimus and Allovera both held their breath until they heard a sharp "Clear!" and Brennus emerged from the door. They repeated this process on every building in the village, each one making it more and more obvious the place was deserted.

"I think its all clear, sir." Brennus whispered, stepping out of the final doorway. Decimus nodded, but didn't reply. He was probably right; the place certainly looked dead. But his gut was telling him otherwise. And over the years, Decimus had learned to trust its advice.

He scanned the area, his hawk-like amber eyes struggling to pierce the thick smog. Allovera was just about to suggest leaving when he saw it; a small bomb cellar, tucked away under some grass and sticks. If they attempted to hide it, then someone must be occupying it.

"Someone's in there." Decimus said, cutting off his companions' impatient remarks.

"Could be a trap," Allovera warned.

Decimus nodded. "Both of you stay here for now. Hear anything, come down and help."

His two turian comrades nodded, and lifted their weapons, scanning the area as Decimus lifted the cellar door, and stepped down into the blackness. The small staircase leading down to the underground bunker was pitch dark, but there was a dim light at the bottom of the stairs; probably candle light. Somebody was in here, that much was certain.

Decimus unclipped the shotgun from his hip, unfolded it, and poised it ahead of him. His standard issue turian Taurus Combat Shotgun was equipped with explosive rounds, which crippled accuracy and range but made sure that anyone within arm's length was blown to pieces. Not that the range handicap mattered; in a small space like this, everyone would be fair game.

He silently glided down the stairs, walking sideways and on his toes to minimize noise. When he finally came to the bottom he saw exactly what he expected; three humans, a man, a woman, and a child, huddled up in terror, the child and woman with their heads between their knees. When they saw him enter, the man sprung to his feet, an assault rifle clutched in his shaking hands. He fired off a few shots, which all bounced harmlessly off Decimus' kinetic barriers, creating a small spark as they lit up. The man cursed as the clunky, low quality assault rifle overheated, slapping it a few times in a vain attempt to make it function properly. However, he gave up when he saw Decimus looming over him, shotgun at the hip.

He fired, the explosive rounds blowing him backwards. He collided with the wall, leaving a smear of blood and gore as he slid down the bunker's wall, a gaping hole blown in his chest. The two other humans in the room screamed, pushing even closer together, waiting for the tall alien before them to give them a similar death. As the turian paced towards them, the woman sprung up, flailing her arms in a sudden burst of courage and retaliation. Decimus squeezed the trigger without even flinching, stepping over her bloody mess of a corpse without even a pang of remorse.

That was the part that disturbed him most as he watched this dream unfold. As he approached the human child curled up on the floor, eyes swelled with tears as she looked up at the unfamiliar, evil creature that stood before her, he thought back to the dying woman in the Ola-Tan refinery. Decimus told himself he'd changed over the past eight years; maybe if this was the current Decimus in the bunker, he would've showed some mercy. But he left an innocent woman to burn alive in a collapsing refinery, when he could've easily saved her. He slaughtered Vannor Morta's wife just to finish his goal. He sacrificed countless lives for a megabyte of data.

Decimus watched as he clipped the shotgun back onto his hip, replacing it with a pistol. He raised the weapon so it pointed directly at the screaming girl beneath him, and squeezed the trigger.

"Hey, hey!"

* * *

Decimus' eyes snapped open. When he saw the human man waving his arms in front of him, he shot up from his seat, his hands wrapping around his throat and locking eyes with the terrified human.

When he finally realized where he was, he relaxed.

"Sorry," he muttered, letting go and scratching the back of his neck. "Bad dream."

The human in front of him backed up, the look of terror lingering on his features. "Well, uh, we're about to arrive." He threw the words out quickly, eager to get out of Decimus' way. He half walked half jogged out of the small cabin, disappearing behind the curtain that separated his private room from the aisle.

Decimus sighed, sitting down again and opening his small port window. After forwarding the recovered data to the Council, he'd booked a public shuttle to get him back to the Citadel, and it appeared he slept through the entire trip. He could see the five massive arms stretching out before him from his window, half cloaked in Widow's thick, purple fog. Usually this spectacular sight would keep his gaze, but this time he found it a little less awe-inspiring than usual. With a long, heavy sigh, he rose from his seat, and made his way out of the cabin.

As he shuffled down the aisle on his way to the airlock, his mind drifted back to his dream. Would he really have showed them mercy were he there today? Was he really any different than the maniacal, sadistic _thing _he had just watched?

When he finally made it to the end of the shuttle, they had arrived at the public docking terminal. The airlock hissed, and snapped open, letting the sea of passengers loose to the wonders of the Citadel. Decimus kept to the back of the crowd as the excited swarm of tourists poured into the security lane, pointing at the sights and people, laughing and smiling. Decimus envied them. So oblivious to the world around them. Never having to make tough choices, and regretting them later. Decimus sighed at the thought.

_You haven't changed one bit, Dec. You're a terrible person, and when you're gone, the world will be better off without you._

His gut told him his conscience was right. And over the years, Decimus had learned to trust its advice.

* * *

Decimus arrived at the Council chambers at the exact time they had specified. He had dropped by Chora's Den in the few hours of spare time he had, in a desperate attempt to brighten up. As expected, it didn't work. If anything, the pulsing rhythms and stiff liquor had only made it worse.

The Council had arranged this meeting themselves, so luckily he wouldn't have to wait in a line this time. He bumped into a C-Sec officer on his way up the long flight of stairs, apologizing quickly before starting to walk faster.

_Strange…there aren't usually this many officers up here…_

When he finally reached the small platform in front of the Councils' podium, they were already there, muttering something to each other under their breaths. As soon as they realized he was there, the stopped their chatter, and looked down at him.

"Decimus." Biseen said stoically.

Decimus nodded his respect to the three figures looming over him. "Councillor."

There was something icy about the atmosphere here. Decimus had learned when it took the Council this long to start the meeting, something was very wrong.

"We have discovered something unexpected in the files recently forwarded to us," Tevos finally began. Beside her, Karden lowered his gaze and shook his head.

"What is it, Councillor?"

"Don't play us for fools!" Biseen barked. Decimus stepped back slightly, not expecting her sudden outbreak. Tevos, however, remained stoic. Karden looked absolutely lost for words, his forehead buried deep into his palm.

"Decimus Maxus, your name is in the Judea Capital Buildings registry, dated the day the batarians struck."

"What? Check it again!" Decimus hadn't even visited the capital. This had to be some kind of mistake.

"The Capital building was destroyed three hours ago, Decimus. Spectre-grade explosives were found on the site. The same kind you requested we send you when you got to Falacrine."

_Hossle. That's why he took the bombs with him. He must be in deeper than I thought!_

"Did you think you could get away with this? Were the credits too tempting for you? Why did you do it Decimus?" Biseen snarled, pointing directly at him, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

"How would I do that if my Spectre status was bugged?" Decimus had nothing to defend himself with. He gathered no hard evidence from his investigation, and apparently the data was working against him here.

"It only began malfunctioning after the attack." Tevos shot back.

"If I was responsible for this, then why would I send the data to you?" Decimus said, playing his last card.

"Strange," Biseen sneered. "The files we received were from your contact, Kevin Hossle."

_That's why they needed a forger! While they used my identity, they replaced it with his! Everything I've done has been under Hossle's name! _

"Father, you know I wouldn't do this!" He looked up at Karden, who still had his face buried in his hands. The old turian simply shook his head.

There was a bitter silence, before Tevos finally spoke: "Has the Council come to a final judgement?"

She looked to her right with a nod, Biseen returning it almost instantly.

"So be it. Decimus Maxus, you are hereby stripped of your Spectre status, and will spend your time in a C-Sec prison until further judgement from the Turian Hierarchy. This meeting of the Council is adjourned."

Decimus balled his fists in anger. He was about to shout something at them, about to struggle as the C-Sec guards pulled him backwards and slapped cuffs on his wrists, but decided against it. None of that would help him prove his innocence in the slightest. For now, he was forced to watch as his entire Spectre career ended right before his eyes. He had always been certain his life would end by a gunshot, not by words.

The last thing Decimus saw before he was dragged down the stairs was Biseen's contemptuous eyes, and his father's final look of disapproval.

* * *

Decimus stared blankly at the ceiling, muttering under his breath. The C-Sec prison the guards had thrown him in reeked from the sweat and blood of countless criminals of various races, the most obvious one being the massive krogan he shared the cell's bunk with. The colossal beast hadn't spoken a word to him in the two hours he'd occupied the small, rectangular cell, but had been staring at him intently the whole time.

Decimus tried hard to ignore the krogan, instead focusing on the ceiling. There was a small blue light in the centre, the only thing illuminating the room. He imagined when it turned off, the cell would be pitch-dark, as the light seeping through the prison door was minimal. He'd counted the tiles on the roof and floor multiple times already, and the only thing left to occupy himself with now was listening to the krogan inhale and exhale, his rank breath washing over him even from a few metres away.

In this time, however, he had gone over his case notes in his head time and time again. The group behind the attack had strong ties with Ola-Tan industries, most likely a private merc group, but not the inexperienced group he'd taken out in Falacrine earlier. It would take someone with much more to their name to take a government official from under the Alliance's nose without causing a stir.

Of course, they were using Spectre authority. More importantly, _his _Spectre authority. Even an influential group like the Blue Suns wouldn't be able to bypass Council security. Even the most skilled hacker wouldn't be able to get into the Spectre database. The security programs and Vis were absolutely state of the art, and to add to that, the system constantly changed, similar to a virus mutating to make vaccines difficult, to avoid hackers. That meant it had to be someone with access to the database, which would narrow it down to only two groups; a Councillor, or another Spectre.

Decimus couldn't think of any reason a Councillor would want him gone; he was one of their most effective and well-known operatives, and had done nothing but efficiently enforce their will for years; although it would explain why they pointed him to the quite obviously dirty Hossle.

Although it was difficult to believe a Councillor was responsible, another Spectre seemed even less likely. It was possible one of his comrades had a grudge and wanted him out of the picture, but he couldn't remember ever pissing anyone off enough to warrant something like this. He'd butted heads with some of the more by-the-book Spectres in the past, but Decimus had never angered any of them, at least he didn't think so. Even if he did, Spectres could access anything they wanted; with the exception of other Spectre's files. If one of his comrades was rogue and wanted to use Decimus' name to cover for them, they'd have to hack into the database; and as he said, that was impossible.

So, as difficult to accept as it was, a Councillor was the more likely perpetrator. The question was, who? Tevos was fair and kind; an aggressive politician when she needed to be, but certainly not the type to betray the rest of the Council. Biseen was the most likely suspect; the elderly salarian was strict and cold, and hesitant to do anything unless she knew it would benefit her people in some way. Not that Decimus could think of any reason his removal from the Spectres would aid the salarian people. Lastly, Karden. Decimus' father was fair and absolutely by the book. Just like Biseen, he was heavily biased towards his own people, but hated bending or breaking the rules in any way. Most of all, he was his father. Despite how estranged they may be, Decimus was sure the old turian would never do this to his own son. But he couldn't dismiss the possibility just because of their kinship.

Decimus sighed. None of the Councillors seemed the type to do anything like this. Although, now that Decimus thought about it, it probably wasn't about him. His selection by the dirty Councillor or Spectre might have just been random, using him to get the batarians cleared, and then casting him aside. That theory still left one outstanding issue; what would the perpetrator want to kidnap a high ranking Alliance official for? Was it just a petty grudge against a political rival that they didn't want to take the blame for, or something much bigger?

_What the hell are you doing, Decimus? Even if you do figure it out, you're rotting in a cell. It's probably where you belong. Just give up._

Decimus' conscience hissed in the back of his head again, spewing its usual negativity. However, Decimus didn't listen to it as he usually did. For once, his gut was telling him it was wrong. As if detecting his unusual resilience, it struck again.

_See that krogan over there? I bet he's a killer. Just like you. You belong here._

Decimus shook his head. "Not a killer…"

At first he thought the laugh he got in response was his conscience again, but it was the krogan.

"Still denying it, turian?" It growled. "I can see it in you. You're no better than me, and that's saying something."

Decimus ignored him, instead focusing on another voice echoing in his mind.

_Kid, the best advice I can give a Spectre is; if you get involved, you damn well better see it through. Even if the hurdles seem miles high._

It took Decimus a moment to realize who this voice was. It obviously didn't belong to his conscience. This voice seemed…soothing when compared to the usually sharp hiss that occupied his thoughts. No, this belonged to Glasius. Decimus scarcely remembered the turian. Glasius was the one who initially put Decimus' name forward as a Spectre candidate, and after that, served briefly as his mentor and guide. The older turian and Decimus had formed a strong bond, until Glasius was killed. That was all about six years ago, and it shamed Decimus when he realized he'd forgotten everything his mentor had told him. He was sure that if Glasius could see him right now, he'd be disappointed.

_Do what's right, kid, no matter the cost. Sometimes you may feel like you're by yourself, but sometimes, that's all you need._

Decimus remembered this very moment. His old mentor had given him a pat on the shoulder, before stepping into a shuttle, and speeding away on another routine investigation. The only difference was he had never returned.

Decimus rose from his bunk, so suddenly the krogan stepped back in surprise. While he huddled in a cramped cell, someone was using his authority as a Spectre, and threatened the stability of Council space; and most of all, they had made it personal. Random or not, they had ruined _his _career. He would see this through, for his, and Glasius', sake.

He swung his legs off the bed, landing on the hard, metal floor with a grunt. His krogan cellmate looked at him with a confused stare as Decimus started pacing back and forth, an idea forming in his brain.

After what seemed like an hour of contemplation, Decimus turned to the krogan. "You, what's your name?"

"Stralk. Why?" The krogan grunted.

"You want out of here?"

Stralk laughed. "I've been in here for seven years. Of course I do!"

Decimus looked around the room, till he found a security camera. Looking back to the krogan, who had risen from his seat, he sighed, bracing himself for what came next. "Good. Then I'm going to need you to do something."

"And what's that?"

Decimus rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you're going to need to beat the crap out of me. Don't make it look staged." He added emphasis on the last sentence.

Stralk laughed. "That all?"

"For no-"

Decimus didn't even have time to finish his sentence when Stralk sprung forward, with speed surprising for a creature his size, and threw him against the bunk in the cell's corner, collapsing it and sending the broken parts raining down on him. This all took about half a second, and even less time had passed when Stralk pulled him out by the legs, and pinned him against the opposite wall. Stralk raised his fist, preparing to crush the turian's skull, but Decimus delivered a sharp kick to the midsection, giving him enough breathing room to slip out from the krogan's grasp, and his fist made a dent in the wall.

Decimus crawled backwards on all fours, still slightly dazed from Stralk's first assault; he shook his head to clear his vision, and found it filled by the massive, seven-foot krogan. He was breathing hard, giving him a look that said 'What was the point of this?' before picking the turian up by the neck again, pinning him against the wall and preparing to deliver a final blow.

But before his fist could hit home, two C-Sec officers poured into the cell, an asari and a turian. They pulled the massive krogan back, the asari restraining him with her biotics, and the turian raising his assault rifle, ready to tear Stralk apart should he try anything. Luckily, they were so occupied with him, they didn't notice Decimus drop from the krogan's grasp, and rise up slowly, a piece of the collapsed bunk in his hands.

Decimus lunged forward, swinging the metal bar around the asari's neck and pulling it towards his chest, effectively putting her in a chokehold. This broke her concentration, and the biotics holding Stralk back released, and before the turian officer could react, the massive krogan, still shimmering blue, plowed forward, colliding with the blue-armored turian and crushing him against the wall, shattering nearly every bone in his body under his half-tonne body. Decimus could hear the man's cry of pain as he carefully lowered the asari to the ground; unlike Decimus, Stralk meant to kill.

Decimus unclipped the unconscious asari's pistol, stowing it away in his orange prison outfit's deep pocket. When he rose and made his way into the prison corridor, the alarms had already sounded, and Stralk was already thundering down the hallway, after giving Decimus a quick nod of thanks. He could still hear the krogan's roar, along with the crack of the terrified C-Sec officer's weapons, as he crept off in the opposite direction, unfastened a grate, and slid inside, crawling on his hands and knees until he reached the end of the vent nearly an hour later. With a groan, Decimus kicked off the grate, and slid out, landing on the corridor's hard floor with a roll.

It took him a moment to gain his bearings after the sharp drop. He was still sore from his fight with Stralk and a fall like that did nothing to help his aching bones. However, his more immediate concern was escape, but when he looked up and caught the smell of the place he was in, he knew it wasn't necessary.

The vent had opened up into one of the Foundations, the underbelly of the Wards, placed between the inhabited area and the impenetrable outer hull. Technically, only Keepers were allowed down here, so of course, the Foundation's only occupants were the poor and criminals, on the run and without the power to get off the station to a 'safe' place like Omega. C-Sec rarely ventured down here; most criminals hiding in the Foundations died from vacuum exposure or falling into a protein vat long before they ever got off the Citadel. Decimus had been here a few times on Spectre business, each visit he had hoped more and more he'd never have to find himself here again. Oddly enough, there was no place he'd rather be at this point.

When he stepped out of the stinking corridor and into a more populated area of the slum, he was met by suspicious glances from the residents. A group of young, scrawny looking humans huddled close as Decimus walked by, whispering to each other and nervously glancing at the turian. The place was dark; the only major source of light a few people crouched down by a fire; the smell was so foul Decimus didn't want to know what they were burning.

A group of shady looking volus stopped their conversation as he approached, silently following him with their eyes from beneath their exosuits. Decimus ignored them; if he hadn't moved, the one person he could ask for help should be camped inside the tower of containers across the street from him. He picked up his pace, ascending the makeshift ladder until he found who he was looking for; a particularly grubby looking turian, sound asleep under multiple layers of tattered blankets.

"Hey, Brennus!" Decimus barked, kicking the mass of covers. "Wake up!"

The turian jumped slightly, leaping out of the pile of blankets and fixing his single eye on him. Brennus had served with Decimus during Shanxi. Near the end of that campaign, Brennus had gone insane from PTSD, although he denied those claims, along with the Hierarchy's multiple offers of psychiatric help. He had a terrible fear of humans (and other turians) after seeing so many of them die, and holed himself up in his rotting old tower to get away from them. Needless to say, he was never happy when Decimus showed up at his 'door.'

The once muscular and fit turian now looked scrawnier and dirtier than ever. His tattered, beige clothes were torn up in multiple places; one of his mandibles was missing along with his eye, which he had covered up rather comically with a makeshift eye patch: a human sock.

When Brennus' eyes adjusted, and Decimus came into view, he leapt backwards with a yelp, throwing his blankets over himself and began to shiver in terror.

"Come on now," Decimus sighed, in a less demanding tone than before. He knew he shouldn't treat the shaken veteran this way, but the situation at hand was clouding his judgement. "I don't want to hurt you, old friend."

The turian continued to shiver under his blankets, although Decimus could swear he heard him weakly repeat the word 'friend,' as if testing it.

After a long moment of silence, Brennus poked his head out of his blankets again, locking his eye with Decimus. "That's what they always say to Brennus. Won't hurt you they say. Here to help they say. But people are _evil. _They always hurt Brennus! He has never done anything, but the monsters always hurt him! Just like they hurt _them_. Just like Brennus hurt _them."_

Decimus didn't quite know how to respond to this, so he got to the point. "I need your omni-tool. I need to send a message. It won't take long." He spoke slowly and deliberately. If he had learned anything in his few dealings with the traumatized veteran, he knew it was best not to rush their talks.

Brennus looked at him with a twitching eye, and then slowly crawled beneath his blankets once again. "No. Go away. Leave Brennus alone."

Decimus stood at the entrance for a few minutes longer, and when he never emerged from his covers again, he sighed, and started to speak.

"Brennus, what happened to Allovera and Leeandras wasn't your fault." Decimus hung his head and stared at the floor. "It…was mine."

The turian beneath the clump of sheets didn't respond, but he stopped shivering, so Decimus guessed he was listening, and continued.

"When I put you in charge of Leeandras and Allovera, I knew the fleet would be calling in another strike on that area. I thought we would have enough time to get out before it hits, and I was wrong. When I realized my mistake, it was already too late. They died because I put all three of you somewhere you shouldn't have been. I failed all of you as your leader."

Brennus lifted his head out of his blankets, but didn't look at Decimus.

"But I didn't drive myself crazy about it, Brennus. Even the best of us make mistakes, and you've made none so far." He put his hand on Brennus' shoulder, shaking it slightly.

The turian finally looked up at him, a blank, emotionless stare. Then he sighed, and lifted out his arm dropping his omni-tool onto the container floor with a _clang._ Decimus picked it up and rose to his feet, Brennus sighing slightly as he fell asleep, once again burrowed deep in his sheets.

C-Sec tracked most of the signals being sent and received on the Presidium and the Wards, but they didn't bother to track them when they were being sent from the Foundations; mainly because the majority of people here couldn't even afford something to send them with. In fact, Brennus was most likely the only one, which was why he needed him. Down here, he could send a message with no fear of it being tracked.

There was only one person on this station Decimus trusted completely. Only one person he was sure wouldn't turn him in. Almost immediately after Decimus had punched the number into the omni-tool and pressed call, a salarian voice crackled through, the reception muffled by the half-kilometer of hull between the Foundations and the Wards.

"What? Who is it?"

"Kesh, its Decimus. I need your help." Decimus said in a low voice, hoping the people on the street wouldn't hear.

"Your signal is coming from the Foundations. In trouble now, are we?"

"You could say that."

_**To be continued…**_


	4. Tinatas arp non Setarc

Despite the millions of dialects commonly used in the galaxy, Sanike Dah-Ola couldn't think of a single word to express his feeling of utter relief.

He was sitting on a lounge chair, a glass of fine Thessian honey mead in hand, gazing out at the setting sun of Camala, the sun casting an orange shimmer down the massive lake before him. East of Hatre, the batarian man's hotel was the finest money could buy, the six storey building built on the coast of the Khanshar Lake. This close to the planet's equator, the temperature was almost inherently warm, something Sanike greatly enjoyed after his week and a half spent on the rainy, humid subtropical colony of Judea. Despite being miles from any major city centres, his hotel was relatively close by to the small town of Jardada, meaning entertainment wasn't far away in case Sanike got bored of his current residences' serenity.

The batarian smiled as he sipped at his mead, the sweet, lingering taste of the asari beverage seeping down his throat. Right now, Sanike couldn't be happier. His contract with Dorik was over; all the loose ends of their operation in Falacrine were tied up. The Spectre the boss had used to cover up their tracks was rotting in a C-Sec prison, likely off to the chopping block or a Hierarchy boot camp soon enough. Really, he had never wanted anything to do with Dorik or his scheme in the first place; blowing up his own company's facility had set him back more than he would have liked. However, one does not say no to Dorik Kai-Shan, as the contact that introduced him to the other batarian had told him.

Dorik was powerful; far more than Sanike. He was friendly with Aria T'Loak, The Shadow Broker, and every other powerful entity Sanike knew. If you rejected his offer one of his contacts would hear about it sooner or later, and you would have trouble doing business ever again after that. If Sanike had walked out of Dorik's plan early, Ola-Tan Industries would've become bankrupt v_ery _quickly, and Sanike would go from a very wealthy batarian to a very poor batarian quicker than he could say 'pyjak.'

When the Camalan sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon, Sanike downed the rest of his mead, and with a smile, stepped off his balcony and into his large, rectangular penthouse. Flicking on the lights, he closed the blinds on the several large windows at the front, and headed off in the direction of his bedroom, fully intent on getting a well-earned rest after the ordeal with Dorik.

Really, Sanike couldn't have been happier. Which was why he was so infuriated when Dorik burst through the penthouse door, flanked on either side by two of his thugs, clad in jet black armor. For a moment, Sanike was alarmed. Did Dorik want him dead, even after all he'd done for him?

When the larger batarian caught sight of Sanike, he bound forward quicker than Sanike thought possible, careening towards him until the two batarians were within arms distance. With a growl, Dorik slammed the smaller man onto the table, both hands wrapped firmly around Sanike's throat. Cutlery and papers flew off the bar table as Sanike crashed into it, struggling and squirming the whole way.

"You said your men had it under control!" Dorik snarled, tightening his grip on the terrified batarian sprawled out on the table.

"What? What happened?" Sanike choked, desperately trying to escape Dorik's grasp.

"The Spectre broke out! You said your men would have all the prison's exits monitored before the Hierarchy got to him! You said your men were well trained, not a bunch of sloppy amateurs!"

"I said they were the best I could find that weren't wanted in Citadel space! You can't expect me to get Eclipse or Blood Pack onto Teyseri Ward, can you?" Sanike spat out, beginning to go numb from Dorik's chokehold.

After a long moment of consideration, Dorik let go of the smaller batarian's throat. "Fine. Be more careful with who you hire in the future."

"The future?" Sanike panted, sucking in a few breaths in a desperate attempt to stop his head from spinning.

"The turian bastard is out, he'll probably figure out the boss's identity sooner or later. So, you're working for me again, understood?" Dorik snarled, before turning around and thundering out of the penthouse. Obviously, that hadn't been a question.

_One does not say no to Dorik Kai-Shan…_

Sanike didn't get up from where the other batarian had tossed him. He simply stared at his ceiling's fan as it spun, and spun, and spun.

Despite the millions of dialects commonly used in the galaxy, Sanike Dah-Ola couldn't think of a single word to express his feeling of utter fury.

* * *

"Your signal is coming from the Foundations. In trouble now, are we?"

"You could say that."

There was a slight break of static before a response came. "Very well. Stay where you are."

The transmission ended abruptly. For a moment, Decimus wondered how Kesh was going to find him, but then remembered how crafty the salarian bastard was.

Wakesh Sorlon, Kesh, for short, was one of Decimus' most trusted contacts. For the past eight years he'd given Decimus reliable and persistently accurate intel on his targets and objectives, and he was the only person Decimus knew he could call his friend; and the only person he knew he could trust implicitly.

Kesh was former STG; he had participated in many notable operations in his short, yet eventful, career. All of which, in typical STG fashion, were heavily classified. He left the acclaimed group to pursue a career as an information broker; a job which he was exceptionally good at, as he and Decimus had found out.

The former Spectre turned off the omni-tool, setting it down at the foot of Brennus' makeshift bed. The one-eyed turian was awake again, but didn't say a word as he blankly stared at the wall of the container he had made his home. Decimus had meant what he said to the shaken veteran, for the most part. Brennus hadn't done anything wrong, and it had been Decimus' fault and Decimus' alone, that much was true. He was lying when he said he didn't beat himself up about it, however. For months after Leeandras and Allovera were killed, Decimus had been a hollow vessel of regret and guilt. Their lives had been his responsibility, and he failed. Their deaths were on his conscience.

_Just like Vannor. Just like the hundreds in Ola-Tan…_

Decimus shook his head, trying to avoid these thoughts.

_Stop. You'll become like Brennus if you keep thinking like that…_

He sighed, looking down at his former squadmate. His eye was still open, fixed on the rusty brown wall of his container. Was the scrawny, shivering turian on the ground what he was bound to become? How long before he snapped too?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a skycar, the distinct hum of the engines bringing him back to attention. Kesh had arrived quicker than Decimus had expected. The salarian opened the car's hatch, beckoning for him to get in with a quick nod. Like all salarians, Kesh was tall and wiry, his skin a dark shade of green, contrasting sharply to his bright orange eyes.

"I appreciate the help, old friend." Decimus said to Brennus, before turning towards the shuttle. "Tinatas arp non setarc." It was an old priest's parting from a dead turian dialect. He doubted Brennus knew what it meant, but he'd figure it out eventually.

Brennus didn't say a word in response as Decimus stepped out of his container and into the shuttle. Kesh acknowledged him with another nod, before closing the car's hatch and navigating it out of the tight corridors that made up the Foundations.

"How the hell did you get a shuttle in here anyway?" Decimus asked. Other than the Keeper tunnels, he didn't know of any other entrances to the slum, let alone one big enough for a shuttle.

"I have my ways. Sometimes the Keepers need to bring ships and other larger things down here to melt them down, so there are some larger tunnels. If you know where to look, that is." The salarian replied, in the higher pitched voice typical of his kind.

_He says he hates this place, but he knows it better than I do…_

"You don't even want to know what's going on?

Kesh laughed. "I already know. In fact, I'm fairly certain _everyone _knows. Rogue Spectre escapes prison, and is apparently a terrorist threat to human colonies. You're lucky I trust you, Decimus. Anyone else would've turned you in already."

Decimus twitched a mandible. He hadn't expected the story to go public so quickly.

"I would like to know the true story though." Kesh finally said after a moment of silence. They were out of the Foundations, Kesh subtly steering his shuttle into the sea of traffic roaring down Teyseri Ward's main 'highway,' trying as hard as he could not to draw attention to himself. Shuttles coming out of the Foundations usually drew some suspicious looks.

"I was set up, Kesh. The Council sent me to a human colony, saying it was a batarian attack. When I got there, I realized there had never been an attack. All it was was a kidnapping, apparently of someone important. Whoever did it was backed by Ola-Tan industries and a Spectre."

"Another Spectre?" Kesh asked, a surprised look on his face.

Decimus shook his head. "That's where it gets interesting. Someone used _my _Spectre status to cover their tracks when they broke into the capital."

"And the only ones who could do that would be-"

"Another Spectre, or a Councillor."

Kesh frowned, contemplating what Decimus had just told him. Neither of them said anything for a long while, until Kesh veered the skycar downwards and out of the constant flow of traffic. They landed on top of a small warehouse, surrounded only by a few apartments, most of them looking deserted. Judging by how suddenly Kesh had turned towards this place, it was the safest hiding place the salarian information broker could think of.

They stepped out of the shuttle, hastily making their way into the abandoned warehouse. The building's interior was little more than empty space and a few broken down shuttles, the only notable feature a massive, gunmetal box on the far left of the room. Kesh didn't come here much, Decimus guessed.

When the salarian had turned on all the lights, he scurried over to the metal cabinet, punching a code into the small interface on its left door and pulling it open, revealing a stash of armor, weapons, and various other equipment. With a smile, he turned, tossing Decimus a M-77 Paladin, which he always knew he favored.

"So, what's your plan?" Kesh finally asked.

Decimus scratched the back of his neck, his mandibles clicking in discomfort. "Err…I don't know."

Kesh sighed, leaning against a shuttle and frowning. "Do you have any leads at all?"

"No…"

"No names?"

"Well…no." Decimus looked down at his feet.

"Nothing at all."

"Uh-huh."

There was an awkward silence as Kesh shook his head in disbelief. It lasted at least ten minutes, before Decimus finally spoke.

"Well, there is the data…"

Kesh pushed away from the shuttle he was leaning on, giving Decimus a quizzical look. "The data?"

Decimus sighed. This was probably no good, but he continued regardless. "When I was on Judea, I got some data from the head of Ola-Tan, and sent it to the Council. It might have something in it that could help us."

The salarian scratched his chin. "Important stuff like that is usually kept by the Executor. How do you plan on getting it?"

Decimus shrugged. "I could…break into his office?"

Kesh laughed for a long minute. "Oh, I love it because it's such a _terrible_ idea!"

He chuckled again, before continuing. "Executor Vakarian's office is on the Presidium, probably guarded by a dozen C-Sec guards, and rigged with security cameras so advanced you'd need STG level tech to disable them."

Decimus stepped forward, lowering his mandibles in the turian equivalent of a smile. "Well, good thing we _have_ STG level tech." He said, nodding towards the gunmetal safe.

* * *

"The embassies district is pretty much deserted, Decimus. Executor Vakarian is still there, and Ambassador Sparatus is out for a midnight walk it seems. Be careful." Kesh's voice buzzed in Decimus' earpiece, before abruptly cutting off.

He was seated on a bench, head hung low to keep the pedestrians still coming and going from seeing his face. Smuggling himself onto the Presidium was easy enough; while Kesh was supposed to be a simple information broker, he knew how to get past security as well. While the salarian could've forged him a fake ID, Kesh had chosen a much more unpleasant way of getting past the Presidium's sensors. He loaded his shuttle with Sur'Kesh Slysen fish, a delicacy on the salarian homeworld, known by the other races for its positively putrid scent. The C-Sec investigator who had searched his shuttle didn't have the stomach to dig through the stinking pile of fish to find that Decimus was buried beneath it.

_Crafty bastard…_Decimus thought, with what could've been a grin.

Seeing as Decimus' face was known to the public as the face of a criminal, Kesh had taken the time to change his appearance slightly as well. Skin pigments didn't work as effectively for turians as they did for humans or asari, but after a few tries, they had managed to change his charcoal-black carapace into a more greyish color, and had temporarily covered up his clan markings with dye the same color as his skin. To help stay incognito, he decided to wear a long, black coat instead of armor.

The Presidium was in its night cycle; the sky was dimmed, and the usual clouds and sun displayed on the massive ring's roof were replaced by a moon and stars. However, night on the Presidium wasn't quite as dark as night on, say, Palaven. While it would help, he couldn't rely on the darkness as a place to hide.

After a long sigh, Decimus rose to his feet, making his way across the walkway leading to the Embassies. The main lobby was deserted, but the receptionist would be back eventually; the Embassies were open at all times, but not the offices or bar they shared the building with. It was now or never.

Moving fast, Decimus darted towards the stairs on the left side of the lobby, running on his toes to avoid making any unnecessary noise. Just when he reached the top of the long staircase, the receptionist came back, settling down in her desk with yawn. When Decimus was sure the asari wasn't watching, he continued on his way.

After creeping up one last staircase and through one last hallway, he settled down next to the door which would open to the Executor's office. Kesh had tapped into the security cameras and created a false report of trouble nearby, luring the C-Sec guards away to assist. All that stood between Decimus and the Ola-Tan data was the Executor. Decimus had no intention of killing him, but the old turian was tough; he'd attack him on sight, and Decimus would need to defend himself.

Listening in, he could hear two voices coming from the office. Swearing to himself under his breath, leaned in closer to the door. He hadn't planned on two people being in there.

"How do you think Karden is taking all this?" Decimus recognized the voice as Ambassador Sparatus.

"I don't know. When he dropped off this data he seemed pretty broken up about it." Came the deep, raspy voice of Executor Vakarian. "Serves him right, I say. Spectres are nothing but trouble. He should've expected it."

"Doesn't your son want to be a Spectre?" Sparatus replied.

Executor Vakarian snorted. "Garrus? Yeah. He's as likely to become a Spectre as he is to date a damn quarian, or a human."

"You should be easier on him. He's still young. He'll come around."

Decimus heard a chair shuffling, and papers being gathered. They were leaving, he guessed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Executor." Sparatus said as the office door opened. Vakarian grunted, and Decimus held his breath as the turian ambassador walked past him, and down the stairs without a sideways glance. The Executor, however, lingered.

_It would be simple, Decimus. You could go in, kill him, and get the data. Nobody would see you._

Decimus almost considered his conscience's advice. It would be simple, that much was certain. While the old turian was tough, Decimus doubted he could take a well-trained Spectre.

_Didn't you hear him talking? He's got a son. A family. You kill him and little Garrus grows up without a father._

Decimus found himself nodding at the other voice chiming in his head. He wouldn't let the Vannor case happen again. He couldn't. Inhaling, he waited a few minutes longer, until the Executor hobbled out of the room, and like Sparatus, didn't notice the other turian crouched in the shadows.

When he was sure he was the only one in the area, he slipped into the office. There wasn't much in the room other than a few chairs and a desk, with a monitor placed on top, still glowing to indicate it was in standby. Decimus clicked it on, scrolling through the various reports and case notes till he found the one labeled 'MAXUSDECIMUS/30/12/65.' After a quick glance around the room, he began transferring the files to his omni-tool.

The data transfer took about two minutes, much faster than the first time he'd stolen this data. When the monitor beeped to indicate it was complete, he stowed his omni-tool back into his coat pocket and made his way to the exit. He would give these files to Kesh, and see what he'd find.

_Hopefully this wasn't for nothing…_

He hadn't gone two steps when the silver door slid open, two men, both turians, standing in the doorway. Judging by their lack of uniform, they weren't C-Sec; and judging by the fact their weapons weren't drawn, they weren't expecting him.

When they caught sight of him, the taller turian pulled out a pistol, aiming it at Decimus' chest. Acting on instinct, Decimus ducked, the turian's shot soaring over his head with a long _choo._ Diving forward, he threw a sharp punch to the turian's stomach, making him double back in pain. Realizing his partner had his weapon drawn as well, Decimus lunged at him, grabbing the gun in his hand and pointing it away from him, delivering a hard blow to the turian's carapace with his elbow. Despite the natural 'armor' all turians possessed, Decimus heard something break. The man toppled over, unconscious.

The other man ran forward, unsheathing a knife and charging at him with a roar. Decimus sidestepped, grabbing the man's wrist and delivering a hard jab upward with his free hand, breaking the turian's arm. He cried out in pain, dropping the knife, which Decimus caught and threw aside, before lunging forward with a strong uppercut, breaking his jaw and knocking him backwards, unconscious.

Panting, Decimus rolled one of the unconscious turians over. They had no C-Sec uniform, and after a quick search, Decimus realized they didn't have a badge or identification on them either. To add to that, they were using human-made Hahne-Kedar handguns, not the M-77 like all C-Sec officers were issued.

_Somebody else must be after this as well…_


	5. Along for the Ride

Dorik Kai-Shan sat at his desk, impatiently tapping his fingers on the smooth, steel surface. The batarian had told his pending guest to arrive in three hours, six hours ago. Dorik seldom had to wait for anything; he made sure anyone who made him have to was punished severely. Obviously, the bounty hunter he had hired didn't know this; and if Dorik's intuition was correct, he most likely didn't care either.

This assumption was furthered when he saw the massive figure burst through his door, rain dripping off his chin, dark green head crest, and gunmetal armor. The krogan lumbered further into the wooden cabin, his muddy boots defiling his well cleaned carpets with every step. Dorik tried to make it clear that the krogan should be more respectful to the man surrounded by a dozen well-armed mercenaries, but he had none of it. The hulking mass of scales and armor budged past the scanner-holding merc nonchalantly, causing the smaller man to topple over, cursing.

This small act of aggression caused the other mercs in the room to raise their weapons, all eleven of them aiming directly at the krogan's head. There was a brief moment of bitter silence, before Dorik ordered them to lower their rifles with a growl.

"Great way to get yourself killed, batarian. Do all your men act like that?" The krogan snarled, remaining in a standing position, ignoring the empty chair pulled out in front of him.

"Only when _you_ act like that." Dorik replied, remaining calm despite the tension he could feel radiating around the room.

The krogan snorted. "Well, let's get to business then. It has to be something good if this…" He looked around the room, chuckling as he saw the dark-armored mercs still shivering as they eyed him suspiciously. "_Professional _bunch couldn't handle it."

Dorik ignored the towering figure's sarcasm, and got straight to the point. "There's a Spectre. We want him dead."

"Decimus?"

Dorik squinted suspiciously. "You know him?"

"I shared a cell with him. Small galaxy, huh?" The krogan replied.

"Well, in that case, you know exactly who to look for."

The krogan stepped forward slightly, causing Dorik to instinctively slide his chair back. "Spectres are tougher than the usual pyjaks people send me to kill. This'll cost you extra."

Dorik nodded. "We assure you, Stralk, we have the necessary funds. You'll get half before and half when the job is done."

Stralk snorted, stepping back. "Any leads?"

"He should be arriving near here soon. The rest is up to you."

Stralk nodded, before turning and lumbering away. This time, the merc with the scanner gave the massive krogan a wide berth.

"And Stralk," Dorik called out, remembering one last detail. The massive alien stopped walking, but didn't turn.

"This Spectre has some…sensitive data on him. The last bunch my employer sent after it turned up in a gutter spitting out their teeth. Get it back, will you?"

Stralk didn't reply, just continued to trudge out of the wooden cabin, before disappearing out the door, and into the fog.

Dorik continued to stare at the spot where the krogan used to be, all four of his eyes open wide. He was sure Stralk would succeed; he was one of the best, and most expensive, bounty hunters in the galaxy; and after being locked in a C-Sec prison for eight years, he was most likely angry, and krogan fought better when they were angry.

Despite this, Dorik couldn't help but worry. There was now a krogan bounty hunter and another Spectre on Decimus' tail, but no matter how many, or how deep of a pit they seemed to throw him into, the turian bastard would always crawl his way out again, getting ever closer to Dorik and his employer. He needed to die; that much was certain, but Dorik couldn't help but respect the former Spectre's determination. Even after being stripped of his resources and falsely accused of being a criminal, he continued to pursue him, and if Stralk didn't succeed, he'd surely find him.

"Dorik," Birkash began, breaking the batarian's line of thought. "Should we warn Sanike?"

Dorik didn't even hesitate before replying. "No. He has ceased to be useful. When the Spectre gets to him, Stralk will have a lead to work with."

Birkash nodded. "Yes, sir."

_Little bastard will finally get what's coming to him…_

* * *

**_11 hours earlier…_**

Decimus rolled the turian's unconscious body over, making sure he didn't miss anything important in his quick search of their bodies. They weren't C-Sec; they had no uniform, badge, or identification, and their weapons weren't standard issue. Instead of the grey and blue uniform of Citadel Security, they were clad in black armor, a symbol emblazoned on the chest plate; the sharp talon of the ancient turian spirit Joramus, surrounded by a sun-shaped object, and riddled with several digits of an old dialect Decimus didn't recognize.

The talon of Joramus was a figure seldom used in insignias and banners. The deity was said to come from the ancient turian city-state of Joramul, which sacked the ruling Desilius Empire in the Iron Age and ruled for over a century of terror and bloodshed, abusing the citizens of their empire till a new Dynasty rose. Since then, the spirit of the city of Joramul was feared and shunned; the two unconscious turians Decimus was searching were bold to wear such an insignia in public. What the sun and ancient writings meant, however, Decimus had no idea.

When he was done searching the bodies, Decimus rose, stepping over the bodies and making his way to the open window behind the Executor's desk. Nobody was using the walkway directly below, so after checking over his shoulder, he leapt out, vaulting over the window's railing and hitting the ground with a roll.

The Presidium's night cycle was nearly over, in about half an hour the artificial sky would be lit up again, and hundreds of people would pour out of their homes to begin their day-to-day business, and one of the commoners was sure to realize who he was. Decimus had no intention of being on the Presidium when that happened.

"Kesh, I'm done. I'll meet you at the same place you dropped me off."

* * *

"Hmm…" Kesh muttered, flicking through the walls of data displayed on his monitor with his usual quizzical expression. "Most of this is heavily encrypted, besides the part that convicts you. How convenient."

Decimus didn't reply, just sat on their small warehouse's only chair, flicking his pistol's safety on and off while staring at the ground.

"Luckily, your friend from Ola-Tan was sloppy. A vorcha could figure this out if you gave it the right tools."

"So…I should go find someone else?" Decimus joked, finally looking up.

Kesh let out a dry laugh, never tearing his eyes away from his screen. "Just give me an hour or so."

The salarian's fingers sounded like machine gun fire as they darted across the keyboard; Decimus didn't even want to know how Kesh knew what he was doing, seeing as the thought alone made his head spin. With a sigh, he set his head back, stowing his pistol in his coat pocket, and closed his eyes.

_Whatever comes next in this ridiculous vendetta will probably be exhausting…_

* * *

Like the last time Decimus had slipped into a dream, he recognized his surroundings almost instantaneously.

Palaven, 2157. One week after the end of the Relay 314 Incident. He was at the back of the sea of soldiers scrambling to rejoin their families, his purple Officer attire standing out amongst the swarm of grey and blue colored grunts. Unlike them, however, nobody was greeting him as soon as he stepped off the shuttle.

_Aunt Octavia must still be sick…_He thought, and with a sigh, threw both of his bags over his shoulder and made his way down the spaceport's main flight of stairs, beginning the long trip south.

Decimus' native city, Secidar, was located six hundred and ninety miles south of Palaven's equator, in the largest and hottest desert on the planet, the Periculosum, named after the explorer who first charted the massive stretch of land during the middle ages. Secidar, however, was located in the desert's only mapped oasis, known as the 'Wanderer's Savior' by the ancient Secidarian nomads who roamed the southern continent thousands of years ago. Like Decimus, the turians native to this area of Palaven had developed darker and slightly thicker carapaces to help with the greater heat and radiation of the Periculosum desert.

Because of its location and less than ideal living conditions, Secidar's population was tiny compared to larger cities like Cipritine; which meant the city too was small, and never developed along with the rest of Palaven; some of the buildings in Secidar had been there for several hundred years. The architecture was simple when compared to the more modern cities; buildings taller than ten storeys were few and far between, and most had the dusty, beige hue common of desert cities, which contrasted sharply to Palaven's usual silver colored sky.

Decimus picked up his pace as he made his way down Secidar's ancient gravel road. Palaven's star, Trebia, was beginning its descent beneath the distant Semotus Mountains, and it would soon be replaced my Menae, causing the Periculosum desert's temperature to drop to freezing temperatures. Decimus didn't plan on being outside when that happened.

After about half an hour of running, Decimus arrived at his aunt's front doorstep, his throat bone-dry and his breathing hoarse. Octavia Maxus' home was small, only two storeys and made out of the same dusty-colored concrete common on Secidar; and like most of the city's buildings, there were no windows. Trebia usually burned so bright the residents retreated inside just to escape it; windows would do nothing but harm.

When his three knocks on the front door didn't get an answer, he slowly pushed the door open, emerging into the small home. The front room was relatively empty; a painting of the warrior-spirit Taetrus hung on the left wall, and a small, wooden table was pushed into the corner, a knocked over picture frame on its surface.

Decimus turned the frame over, and couldn't help but smile at the holo-still on the other side. It was his mother and father, a one month old Decimus cradled in his mother's arms, with one of the Semotus Mountains towering in the background. According to his father and Aunt Octavia, his mother had died of Corpalis Syndrome a week after this holo was taken. Unable to raise a son and be a Councillor at the same time, Karden eventually gave Decimus to Octavia, who had raised him since he was only six years old.

Despite only knowing her through holos and stories, Decimus had always thought the world of his mother. Octavia had always called her strong, kind, and intelligent, and despite developing a strong bond to his aunt, Decimus had never stopped wishing his mother was the one raising him instead of her, leaving a slight rift between them. It pained Decimus when he realized the last conversation he had with his aunt before shipping out to Shanxi had been an argument.

Putting the holo-still down, Decimus began to feel something was wrong here. His aunt was obsessed with cleanliness; the fact that the holo frame was knocked over in the first place was odd, but it was covered in dust, meaning it had been that way for a while.

"Aunt Octavia?" Decimus called. When there was no reply, he slowly made his way up the small flight of stairs, and carefully opened the door to Octavia's room, wincing as the hinges made a high pitched screech.

"Aunt Oct-" Decimus felt as if his words dropped from his mouth and straight into his gut. Lying in her bed, stiff as a board, was Aunt Octavia. Her dark carapace had already begun to degrade, and the parts that weren't were dappled with dust, and the rest with…

_Bullets?_

Decimus shuffled towards his deceased aunt, still feeling hollow in his stomach. He put a hand on the lump of covers that covered her midsection, a dozen tiny holes dotting it, black, crusty blood surrounding the entry points. She had died at leasat a week ago, Decimus guessed.

"Damnit…" He murmered. "Damnit!" His voice cracked with grief, and he fell to his knees, dropping both of his bags at the foot of the bed. Staring blankly at his aunt's body, her open eyes murky and staring back at him, he sat back, leaning against the bedroom's far wall and sighing. He found it difficult to register this. He'd killed a lot of people, seen a lot of corpses...but rarely one that belonged to someone he cared for. The turian doubted he'd ever get used to the empty feeling that accompanied it.

"I'm sorry," Decimus whispered, hanging his head, his low, raspy voice piercing through the eerie silence that filled the room. "For everything..."

After nearly an hour, Decimus rose. He didn't know anyone who would have a quarrel with the kindly old woman who lived on her own, but she was obviously murdered; and the only evidence of who was on the roof. Emblazoned in dark red was a talon, a sun surrounding it, riddled with several ancient turian digits…

* * *

"I'm sorry…" Decimus murmered.

"What?" Kesh replied, standing above him with a concerned expression on his face. Decimus blinked his eyes open at the salarian's voice, the world beginning to come into focus.

"Sorry…" Decimus sighed, sitting up and shaking his head. "Just a dream."

Kesh still looked concerned, but didn't comment. "I'm done. Took longer than I expected, but I'm done."

"Anything good?" Decimus asked drowsily. He still felt empty in his gut from the flashback of Aunt Octavia.

"Most of it is just company files. Blueprints for Ola-Tan weaponry, business charts, conference logs…but I did find something you might like."

"What's that?" Decimus staggered to his feet, and stood behind Kesh as he scrolled through the recently decrypted files.

"A recent transactions log for 'Sanike Dah-Ola,' the head of Ola-Tan Industries." Kesh said, opening a file on his monitor. Decimus recognized the batarian displayed on the log's left corner at once.

"That's the guy. He talked to me before the Ola-Tan building blew. He was in pretty deep, it seemed."

Kesh smiled. "Good, because this is the only promising file here. He recently sent three hundred thousand credits to a redacted address, and just two days ago booked a month long vacation in the Khanshar Lake resort on Camala."

"So he's probably still there…" Decimus muttered, realizing this was the first real lead he'd gotten in a while.

Kesh nodded. "We better move fast, then."

Decimus looked down at the salarian, a questioning look on his face. "We?"

"Of course." Kesh replied. "I'm coming with you."

"Why? I'll be getting my ass shot off a dozen times where I'm headed, I can tell. You'll be safer staying here."

Kesh rose from his seat, looking the turian straight in the eyes, his bright orange meeting Decimus' amber. "I'm coming with you because you're my friend, and I know you didn't do any of this. You're a hard person to like at times, Decimus; I'll admit that, which is why you need me. You may think you work better on your own, but you don't."

Decimus looked away from Kesh, focusing on his feet instead.

"I've seen the way you look, the way to talk, you're stressed. You're guilty, about Vannor, about Ola-Tan, and probably more. Your conscience is trying to break you, Decimus, and if I don't tag along to keep you focused, you'll let it."

_You sound like Glasius…_

There was a long break of silence afterwards. Decimus knew Kesh was right; he was driving himself crazy. If he didn't stop thinking about Vannor, Ola-Tan, Aunt Octavia, Allovera, Leeandras…he would become like Brennus. A babbling lunatic huddling down in the Foundations, secluded from the rest of the galaxy

"And admit it; you'd be hopeless without me to get you through security stations."

Decimus laughed, for the first time in what seemed like ages. "Alright Kesh, you made your point."

"Talking about that…" Kesh began, shuffling over to a steel box he had stacked in the trunk of a skycar. "I think I know how to get you off the Citadel."

Decimus joined Kesh in lifting the box out of the car, dropping it on the metal warehouse floor with a grunt. "Please tell me fish aren't involved."

Kesh smiled. "No, not this time." He lifted the lid on the container, and when Decimus saw what was inside of it, he knew exactly what Kesh was getting at.

"You have _got _to be kidding me." He muttered, already feeling the cold feet coming on.

_**To be continued...**_

* * *

_**Sorry for the really short chapter this time around, I just thought this was the perfect way to end this one.**_


	6. Sanike's Plea

_Decimus crawled on his belly, sharp, silver rings of barbed wire dangling above him. His armor caked with mud and the drill instructors' weapons firing off above his head, he pushed forward, wincing as a shot screeched by inches from his fringe. The bell was only a few metres away, if he reached it this was over…_

Decimus couldn't help but relive these memories as he clambered forward, the metal duct surrounding him making a low _clang _with every bound, accompanied by a grunt of frustration from Decimus. His envirosuit's helmet was already fogging up from his ragged breath, but there was nothing he could do about it. This deep into the Citadel's underbelly, he highly doubted there was any oxygen to speak of; removing his helmet to defog it would be fatal, and Decimus would much rather be blind than dead.

Clenching his teeth, he continued to crawl forwards. He barely fit in this small, metal vent; it was meant for keepers, not turians. He wouldn't call himself claustrophobic, but the fact that he couldn't turn around or shift slightly in a space as confined as this sent a shiver down his spine.

"Kesh?" Decimus breathed, managing to slip his hand out from under his chest to reach his communicator. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

Shuffling forwards slightly with a grunt, Decimus continued. "Why doesn't C-Sec watch out for people leaving the Citadel like this?"

"Because everyone who tries to escape this way dies." Kesh replied, without even a hint of sarcasm.

"Oh." Decimus said, gritting his teeth. "That makes me feel a whole lot better, thanks."

Kesh didn't respond, so Decimus dropped his hand from his communicator and continued along the tunnel. He didn't know where he was going, Kesh simply told him to keep moving forward; and if he got lost or ran into a dead end, he was done for, unless he managed to backtrack the whole way.

Kesh's 'master escape plan,' as he put it, had ended up being even worse than his fish idea, to Decimus' disbelief. It was simple in theory; Kesh gets off the Citadel normally in his shuttle, while Decimus trekked down to the Foundations and entered the keeper tunnels, crawling all the way to the Citadel's outer hull. There, he would eventually be sucked out into a vacuum, and with luck, Kesh would have done his calculations correctly, and would be there to catch him.

Decimus had heard about the Citadel's 'duct rats,' poor children who lived in these tunnels. Most of them turned up dead; either by falling into a protein vat, or in the same way Decimus was planning on escaping; getting sucked into a vacuum.

_Leave it to Kesh to think of a plan that involves him relaxing in a shuttle while I get thrown out an airlock…_

After nearly two hours of clambering, Decimus finally reached what he believed to be his destination. A rectangular panel, latched tightly onto the left side of the shaft. Seeing as it was the first part of the vent to be sealed off, Decimus guessed it opened up to the Citadel's outer hull.

Groaning, he reached back; a difficult task given the little room he had to maneuver, unclipping his Paladin from its holster, and fired four shots at each corner of the panel. The bullets punched through the plating, and as soon as the first shot made contact, everything went silent with a sharp _pop._ As predicted, this panel opened to nothing but space.

Holstering his pistol, he reached for his communicator. "Kesh, are you ready?"

It took the salarian a moment to respond. "Only one way to find out, right?"

Decimus didn't reply. Sensing his hesitation, Kesh spoke again. "Oh, come on Decimus, if you miss, a shuttle will crash into you long before you run out of oxygen!"

The turian let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Fantastic."

With one final heaving sigh, he pushed on the panel. Weakened by his shots, it snapped off its hinges with relative ease, swiftly getting sucked out of the shaft and flung out into space; and before he knew it, so was he. Instinctively, he flailed his limbs, trying to balance himself as he slid down the vent. Judging by the heaps of metals he was careening down the shaft with, he was in one of the keeper's waste disposal ports. When he finally got used to the sensation of being sucked down the duct, he straightened out, closing his eyes and holding his breath. After what seemed like an hour, he emerged into open space.

Opening his eyes, he couldn't help but be awed by the sight before him. At the speed he was flung out of the disposal shaft, he had drifted quite a bit in a matter of seconds. Through his envirosuit's visor, the entire Teyseri Ward arm of the Citadel stretched out before him, the massive kilometer-long station becoming smaller and smaller as he drifted away from the impressive sight. Seeing it through a shuttle window was one thing, seeing it while floating through space was something else entirely.

Eventually, the Citadel disappeared as he meandered into one of Widow's wispy, pink clouds; and only then did he begin to worry. How long had he been drifting already? Did Kesh miscalculate where he'd come out? Holding his breath, he braved a nervous glance behind him. Nothing. Just pink clouds of dust all around.

Kesh had been clear on the dangers. If Decimus didn't come out anywhere near his shuttle, he wouldn't have time to track him down and pick him up. Since he was officially registered as a 'departed vessel,' Kesh would have about forty five minutes before C-Sec got suspicious and forced him to bug out, leaving Decimus drifting in space until he ran out of oxygen, or was hit by another shuttle.

Sighing, he lifted a hand to his communicator. "Kesh, you-"

His frustrated words were cut off when he collided with something hard and metallic. The impact winded him slightly, making him bite down hard on his tongue hard enough to draw blood, the bitter, metal taste flooding into his mouth. He felt the surface he had slammed into slide open, and he drifted into the small airlock, his feeling of sheer relief blocking out the one of sheer pain.

He was just about to regain his bearings when Kesh turned on the artificial gravity, making him suddenly and violently slam into the airlock's floor, this time the blood he had drawn in his mouth splattering against his envirosuit's visor, making his already fogged vision a murky haze of blue. Chest heaving, Decimus couldn't help but let out a humorless laugh despite the stinging pain currently throbbing in his mouth.

"Kesh," He breathed, fumbling with his helmet in an attempt to remove it. "Next time, can we just go back to the escape plan with the fish?"

The salarian emerged from the cockpit door and into the airlock, looking down at the turian who lay winded on the floor. "What, afraid of heights?"

"I don't think space counts as 'heights.'" Decimus groaned, sitting up and sliding backwards to lean against the airlock's far wall. "But, no, of course not."

Kesh grinned slightly, and then turned back towards the shuttle's cockpit. "Camala is only three mass relay jumps away. We should be there in an hour or so."

Decimus nodded, still feeling slightly light headed. "Yeah…yeah…I'll just…stay here."

Without another word, he passed out, falling flat against the airlock's steel floor with a _clang._

* * *

"_Glasius?" Decimus called, rapping his fist against the metal door several times. "Glasius, its Decimus!"_

_He heard something shatter inside the small, rectangular Cipritinian home, accompanied by a curse from a familiar voice. After about a minute, the door slid open, and Glasius poked his head out, looking positively exhausted. His grey carapace was flecked with grime, his small, blue eyes squinting and unfocused._

_The older turian hadn't been himself for weeks; according to the Council he had come down with a nasty sickness, and had retreated to Palaven to recover; but Decimus knew Glasius too well to believe that. His mentor would never let sickness get in the way of his duties, no matter how bad it was. _

"_Decimus! Its, uh, good to see you!" The forced cheer in the older turian's voice was evident. "Come in, come in."_

_Decimus stepped inside, closing the door behind him as Glasius scurried back into his living room, tossing papers around and knocking a chair over in his flurried attempt to tidy up. One of the scraps fluttered across the room, wedging itself under Decimus' boot. Several digits from a dialect Decimus didn't recognize were hastily scribbled across it, obviously jotted down in a hurry. Despite not recognizing the language, the letters looked familiar, as if he'd seen them before…_

"_What is this?" Decimus asked, picking up the scrap of paper and unfolding it. _

_Glasius looked over his shoulder, before reaching out and pulling the paper out of Decimus' grasp. "Just something I got from the last case. Somebody carved it in the floor above Primarch Alurdun's body." _

"_Is that all the evidence you got?"_

_Glasius looked over his shoulder again, his eyes moving rapidly in their sockets. He was panicking about something, Decimus could tell. "He was killed at sunrise, by a Joramurian steel talon."_

"_Glasius, are you okay? You seem worried." Decimus asked, concerned. _

"_Okay? I'm fine, I'm fine…" _

_Decimus wanted to ask more, but decided against it. "Alright…I'll get out of your way then…" He slowly stepped back, into the hallway, and out the door, Glasius' cobalt eyes following him the whole way._

* * *

Decimus lurched awake, a sudden and violent crashing sound pulling him back to the world. He was still sprawled out on the airlock floor, though he had shifted slightly, most likely due to whatever had caused the ear-splitting sound that had snapped him back to reality. Groaning from his stiff limbs, he rose, his head spinning.

"Kesh? What happened?" He said, stretching.

"We can't use Camala's public spaceports. I'm just acting like we got shot down. When they send ships to search, we'll be long gone." The salarian replied, rising from his chair and walking past him nonchalantly. "Grab whatever you can and let's move."

Decimus nodded, quickly shedding his envirosuit, replacing it with his usual inconspicuous looking black overcoat and slipping his pistol and omni-tool in its deep pockets. Unlike Kesh; who was throwing almost all of the equipment he had into a bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Decimus was travelling light. When they were finished, they slipped out of the open airlock and into the small forest in the center of the valley. It was sunrise on Camala, the orange sun was just peaking over the distant mountains, casting blinding rays of light across the plains.

"How far are we from that resort?" Decimus asked, when they were about a kilometre into the small stretch of tall, Camalan evergreens. The forest was still dark, the canopy was thick enough that minimal sunlight leaked through.

"The lake is just south of here. About a four hour walk uphill, I'm guessing." Kesh replied, keeping his voice low in case the team sent to search their abandoned shuttle was nearby.

"Alright," Decimus sighed, leaping over a small stream winding through the trees, most likely pooling into Lake Khanshar. "Let's pick up the pace then."

* * *

_**Four hours later…**_

Decimus sat with his head hung, his overcoat already drenched by the sudden and violent rainfall that had started an hour ago. Rain was rare on the usually arid planet, but the storms that did occur could last for weeks at a time. Because of this, the outdoor dining area directly outside Hotel Khanshar, where Decimus was seated on a park bench, was completely vacant.

The hotel wasn't a large structure; only five storeys, each with approximately twelve rooms, and a penthouse on the fifth. Decimus guessed his quarry was in there; but he couldn't risk blowing his cover by bursting through the penthouse door and not find who he was looking for. The alarm would sound, and Sanike would flee to his employer and never come out of hiding again. His strike needed to be precise; which was why Kesh was inside, claiming to have a package to deliver to whatever room the batarian was in.

"Decimus," a voice hissed in his earpiece. "You were right, he's in the penthouse."

"Got it." Decimus rose from his seat, flipped up his coat's hood, checked that his pistol was still in his pocket, and then slipped inside the glass double door that lead into the hotel's main lobby. The receptionist was deep in conversation with another batarian woman, giving Decimus the opportunity to slip by unnoticed, the mud he had tracked in on the hardwood floor the only evidence he was ever there at all.

Directly outside the lobby was an elevator, but Decimus pushed open the door to the emergency stairs instead. Sanike would be alerted if the elevator reached his level, and then he would lose the element of surprise, Decimus' most important ally. However, after jogging up all four flights of stairs, a dilemma presented itself. The stairs to the penthouse were locked off, by a steel door with the words "AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED" plastered on its surface.

"Kesh, any chance you could get this unlocked?" Decimus whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was listening.

"Sorry, nothing I can do from here. It'll look too suspicious if I ask for the key up there again."

Cursing, Decimus' eyes darted around the room, desperately trying to find an alternative. He could just use the elevator, but handling the batarian would be _much _more difficult if he did. He would simply look at the elevator's camera, call security, and then Decimus would be done for.

With the elevator out of the question, there was only one other alternative Decimus could see. Sighing, he made his way to the far end of the hallway, towards a small, rectangular window, still half open. Once again checking if he was alone, he eased the window open further, before putting one leg on the sill and pushing up until his upper body was outside, one misstep away from plummeting into the lake, the combined length of the hotel and the rock arch at least eight hundred metres.

_Spirits, I hate heights.…_

At the speed the wind was gusting, scaling the side of the hotel would prove even more difficult, and to add to that, any handhold he would find would most definitely be slippery. Gritting his teeth, he lifted one leg up, balancing on top of the window shutter he had pushed open, and steadying himself by keeping his left hand on the building. When he was sure it was stable, he leaped up again, wrapping his hands around the ventilation pipe that ran vertically down the building. It shifted slightly, Decimus' weight bending it outwards, and the turian's heart skipped a beat.

Ignoring the tingling sensation in his feet, he continued upwards, the task at hand proving difficult given the rainwater cascading down the thin tube. Teeth clenched, and all three of his fingers throbbing from the cold, he reached up, this time his hands grasping a ledge. Almost laughing with relief, he realized he had made it to the roof. With a grunt, he pulled himself up, and lay still for a moment, chest heaving.

The roof was mostly glass, the rainwater that had been pounding on it for hours leaving it dangerously lubricous. Moving slowly, Decimus crept forward, till he was directly above the penthouse's balcony. The turian slipped his pistol out of coat, flicked off the safety, and with a deep breath, he turned, and fired a single shot at the glass below his feet.

A nearly instantaneous chain of events followed. As soon as the bullet made contact, he heard a batarian voice scream not in terror, but in anger, muffled by the sound of shattering glass; and when Decimus landed on the penthouse's solid, wooden floor and raised his weapon, he saw Sanike wasn't alone. The batarian had a human man held between him and Decimus, a gun pointed directly at his temple. It was impossible to tell who he was, Sanike had placed a bag over his head, and wasn't moving a muscle, obviously paralyzed by fear.

"I was wondering when you'd find me, Spectre." Sanike snarled, pushing the gun closer to the human's head.

Decimus lowered his hood with one hand, his pistol still aimed directly at Sanike. "You were expecting me?"

"I'm not stupid! When I heard you escaped, I knew you'd track me down sooner or later!" The batarian barked.

"Who's this?" Decimus asked, nodding towards the paralyzed human man.

Sanike smiled, baring his forest of yellow, needle like teeth. "A…delay. I've heard about the things you've done, Decimus. You wouldn't _dare _fire on an innocent again after all that, would you?"

_The woman leaps in front of her wounded lover, her almond eyes wide with terror. "Stop!" She cries. He ignores her, and fires, catching the drell woman in the chest with a flash of crimson. He steps forward, and gives her husband a similar fate, ignoring the blood-curdling screeches of the two children in the other room._

"How did that work out for you at your refinery, Sanike?" Decimus snarled, ignoring the memory and tightening his grip on his pistol. "Only an idiot tries the same tactic twice, especially on the same enemy."

The batarian stepped backwards slowly, his human prisoner in tow, until he was nearly at the penthouse's door. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" During this exchange, Decimus had made a few observations. The man Sanike was holding hostage hadn't made a single sound this entire time, not even a slight whine of distress. To add to that, the way he moved when the batarian dragged him had no resistance whatsoever, as if he wasn't even alive…

Without another thought, Decimus squeezed the trigger. His shot cleaved through the hostage's shoulder, digging into Sanike's forearm and making him drop his weapon. The batarian yelped in surprise, giving Decimus the opportunity to lunge forward, delivering a fierce, direct blow to Sanike's forehead, crushing one of his upper eyes. The batarian roared in agony, and the human hostage fell from his grasp, the bag on his head falling off to reveal nothing but feathers.

As Sanike stumbled backwards, clutching the spot where his eye used to be, Decimus lunged forward again, this time pushing his steel boot into the batarian's chest, sending him soaring backwards and crashing into the kitchen table, snapping it on impact. The batarian clambered to his feet with surprising speed, but his attempt at retaliation was foiled when Decimus delivered a glancing blow to the stomach, before lunging forward with his foot again and snapping his leg. With another cry of sheer pain, he fell backwards, still clutching his empty eye socket.

"Now you see, Sanike, I'm not a savage man by any means." Decimus sneered, in reference to Sanike's words before the Ola-Tan refinery was destroyed. "So tell me who hired you, and you could save yourself a world of pain."

The batarian rolling on the ground continued to moan in agony, until weakly croaking "I…I don't know!"

Decimus dropped his foot down on Sanike's throat, and began to apply pressure. He squirmed, attempting to speak, so the turian released him, but kept his boot above his neck in warning.

"I…I don't know who hired us, but I know somebody who does know." The batarian said weakly. "D-Dorik Kai-Shan."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, damnit. He left me in the dark about most things. All I know is, he's on Camala, and wherever he is, his…" Sanike coughed, before continuing. "The bastard he got from Judea. He has him there."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. I can tell you this though-he isn't there against his will."

"What?" Decimus snarled.

"He needed a kidnapping to cover up. Make him disappear." Sanike began coughing up blood. Decimus pushed down on the wounded batarian's throat further, but when this produced nothing, he called it in. Raising his pistol, he pointed it directly at the forehead, to minimize the miserable man's suffering.

"Whatever you do…just…kill the bastard…" Sanike croaked, before closing his three remaining eyes and waiting for Decimus' bullet.

* * *

_**To be continued...**_

_**(I'm going to be gone for a little while as of Wednesday, so don't expect anything new for at least 6-7 days.)**_


	7. The Fall

"Not much here, Decimus." Kesh said, frowning as he stared at the orange, holographic monitor. "Just credit transfers, blueprints…"

"We can't track those credit transfers?" Decimus asked, impatiently pacing behind the salarian.

"Not this time," Kesh replied, never tearing his orange eyes away from the screen. "None of them are sent to a 'Dorik Kai-Shan.' He could be going by another alias, but we don't have time visit every single name here just in case it's him."

Decimus sighed, shaking his head in frustration. After the turian had killed Sanike, he did a search of the penthouse. The batarian had obviously tried hard to keep his apartment completely devoid of anything important; other than a few books, vids and drinks, the penthouse was empty. The only thing somewhat useful was his private terminal; and apparently, it wasn't helpful at all.

"Hold on…" Kesh said, leaning forward in his chair.

"What? Did you find something on him?"

"No…I did find something else you might like, though. A voice message from a…Kevin Hossle? Does that sound familiar?"

Decimus' gut clenched in anger at the mention of him. "Too familiar…"

"There's a voice message, and some recent transactions from him. Here." Kesh said, before hitting play.

"Alright Dorik, the stuff your boss sent me looks good. When you cross the scanner in the capital, it'll show up as Decimus rather than whoever steps through. I hope you've got a turian for the job."

Another voice, sounding slightly farther away from the recording than Hossle's, replied. "We've got that covered."

"All right, then. How much trouble could come out of this? I doubt Decimus will approve of you using his identity to kidnap an ambassador."

"That won't be a problem. The Council will be sending him to Judea soon. I'll leave some men behind to take care of him." The recording faded into static after that, before abruptly cutting off.

"The Council will recognize Hossle's voice, Decimus, and its dated two days before you were sent to Judea. This could clear your name."

The turian's heart jumped slightly. They finally had the key to ending this mess. He could present this to the Council, they would reinstate his Spectre status, and he could continue chasing Dorik and his employer, but with Spectre authority instead of a bounty on his head. However, he was already on Camala. If he left the planet, Dorik would slip away and hide as soon as he heard news of his reinstatement. Decimus would have to deal with him first.

"Dorik comes first. Any idea how to find him?"

Kesh stroked his chin, once again staring intently at the monitor. "No….could ask locals, no…take too long, he'd get away…could bring up list of all batarians on Camala…no, no, Camala a batarian planet, far too many…"

The salarian began babbling away to himself, spewing out ideas that all flew over Decimus' head in an unintelligible rabble. Only when Kesh sprung up from his chair suddenly did he snap to attention.

"How did I not think of that? So…obvious!" Kesh blurted out, looking disappointed in himself.

"What is it?"

Kesh sat down again, opening up Sanike's message program. Conveniently, there was no password; Sanike obviously hadn't expected anyone to hack into his terminal. "Bait and trap, send Dorik a message, tell him Sanike killed you, and needs someone sent over here to confirm it. Then, we get Dorik's location out of them."

"That's definitely not foolproof." Decimus muttered uncertainly.

"Yes…Dorik himself won't show up, just a messenger, who might not even know where he is…"

Decimus shrugged. "Well, if there's any other option, I don't see it."

Kesh nodded. "Indeed. I'll send the message. Give me a second."

* * *

_**2 hours later…**_

"Decimus, someone is taking the elevator to the penthouse. Be ready."

Kesh and Decimus had taken care to clean up the apartment before the message was sent. They wouldn't want to spook whoever showed up and send them back to Dorik. Sanike's body was hastily shoved under a bed, the broken table was tossed off the balcony, and the blood and gore from Decimus' rather brutal attack was quickly cleaned up. It looked like nothing had happened at all; other than Decimus, lying down in the centre of the living room, trying to look as dead as possible.

"He's coming in…" Kesh whispered in his earpiece.

Holding his breath, Decimus stared blankly at the ceiling, watching the fan as it gyrated. He heard a pair of feet conscientiously tip-toeing through the apartment, obviously suspicious judging by the slow and deliberate pace he was moving at.

"Sanike?"

Decimus recognized the voice at once. A while ago, he hoped to never see the little scumbag again, but now, there was nobody else he'd rather see.

_Hossle._

The footsteps were closing in, right outside the living room by the sounds of it. In just a moment, he'd see Decimus playing dead, and would relax, giving him the perfect window to strike.

"Hah! You did get him! Where are you?" Hossle laughed. Seeing as Decimus could almost smell his rancid breath wash over him, he was directly above him. Before Hossle knew it, Decimus had lunged to his feet, delivering a strong uppercut on the way up, and wrapping his hands around the human man's throat, dragging him out of the living room, squirming and kicking. With a growl, he tossed him out the window and onto the balcony, shattering the glass and impaling Hossle with dozens of shards.

The human began to panic, frantically crawling backwards in terror, but his slow crawl was delayed by Decimus giving him a strong kick to the abdomen, making him clutch his midsection in pain. With a snarl, the turian reached down again and hauled the human to his feet, shoving him over the railing and holding him there. In all honesty, he was deeply enjoying this.

"So, Hossle…" Decimus growled, flicking his mandibles in rage. "What's that old human saying, 'Et tu, brute?"

Hossle continued to panic, batting his arms against Decimus' shoulders, which he brushed off by dropping his forehead down and crashing it into Hossle's. The human groaned in pain as his nose broke.

"How the hell are you still alibe?" Hossle said, his speech slurred from his newly broken nose.

Decimus let out a dry laugh. "I have a lot of ways to stay alive. You only have one."

The human snorted. "Ab what's dat, asshole?"

"Dorik Kai-Shan. Tell me where he is, and I won't kill you."

"Go fuc-"

Decimus head butted him again, and pushed him farther off the balcony's railing, to the point where the only part of him on the other side were his lower legs.

"You'll save yourself a whole lot of pain."

Hossle snorted again. "Yeah, fuck you."

Decimus looked over the balcony, where the water was smashing against the jagged, razor sharp rocks that dappled the shoreline. "It's a long way down, Hossle. A couple hundred meters I'd reckon."

Hossle sighed. "Shit. Fine, I dun know where he ib, but I know who does. One of his top lieutenants, Birkash Tar-Yut, is meeting wib a contact ap dusk, at an ol clock tower on the eastern outskirts of Jardada. I was subbosed to be there."

Decimus nodded, considering his request. Despite the information the human had managed to hold in during their last interrogation, he doubted he would lie to him when dangling over an eight-hundred meter drop. The human had told him everything he needed to know, but Decimus refrained from pulling him back over the railing.

"You said you wouldn't kill me if I told you!" Hossle stuttered, beginning to writhe in his grasp.

Decimus looked at the squirming human with contempt. "I said _I _wouldn't kill you, and I won't. Gravity will."

With that, he let go, nonchalantly stepping off the balcony and back into the penthouse as Hossle screamed. Kesh burst through the door, beckoning for him to follow as he turned tail and stormed down the stairs. It was almost dusk; Birkash's meeting would be starting soon, and to add to that, someone most likely heard Hossle plummet to his death. Best to leave before security got suspicious.

"Was that really necessary?" Kesh asked as they sprinted through the lobby and out the door.

"No," Decimus replied. "It felt good though."

* * *

"Eastern outskirts of Jardada?" Kesh asked again.

Decimus nodded. They had stolen Sanike's sky car with the keys Decimus had found on the batarian's body, which made the trip to Jardada a trek of less than half an hour. The town of Jardada was small, not much larger than Secidar back on Palaven; and similarly to Decimus' hometown, it was centuries behind in its architecture. The buildings were all flat-roofed and symmetrical, other than the tall, red-bricked clock tower looming over the rest of the town.

"That car behind us is tailing us." Kesh suddenly said. Curious, Decimus glanced at the rear view mirror. "It's been following us this whole trip, right from the hotel parking lot."

Decimus hadn't noticed it. "You sure?"

Kesh nodded.

"We should land then. That meeting should be in thirty minutes. Let's split up to throw our friend off our tail." Decimus said, glancing back to see if the black sky car was still behind them.

Kesh nodded, and abruptly pulled the car down, drifting to a stop on the sidewalk directly below them. With a nod; Decimus staggered out of the cockpit, and headed east, Kesh jogging west. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see their pursuer had parked their vehicle across the road, but didn't step out. Never tearing his eyes off of it, Decimus pushed his way into the nearest building; a dusty, deserted old home. The rotting door snapped off its hinges with relative ease as the turian plowed his shoulder into it, and stepped inside.

After making sure he was alone, he ambled up the stairs, trying to find a good vantage point. There wasn't a back door; the only way in was the entrance Decimus had barged through. From the triangular window on the top floor, he would be able to see his pursuer approach.

It took about ten minutes for someone to come into view; an asari, a cyan color to her skin, dark purple face paint flecking it, with a black overcoat thrown over a set of blue light armor. It was hard to be tell for certain, but Decimus recognized her. She was a Spectre, Silphina T'Vial. Former asari huntress, made a Spectre about a century ago. Decimus hadn't met her in person; but he'd seen the vids. She was one of the most esteemed and effective agents the Council had at their disposal. Asari huntresses trained since maturity; she had nearly three centuries of experience. This wouldn't be easy.

Decimus was good; one of the best, but in hand to hand a fight with Silphina could go either way. He could simply shoot her, but she would have barriers. Before his shots could breach them, the asari would fire back, and he didn't have shields _or_ barriers. To add to this, she was a biotic. He could try and overpower her, but the odds were not in his favor. With a sigh, the turian waited for her to appear in the stairwell. His best chance was to simply improvise.

After approximately three minutes, the asari began to amble up the steps towards him. With one final shake of his head, he lunged, leaping over the railing and landing on her. The handgun she had clutched in her fingers skittered out of her grasp and onto the mouldy, wooden floor, making her curse in frustration. Decimus rose a hand to deliver a punch, but Silphina recovered from the initial shock of his attack quicker than he'd expected. The asari kicked up with her feet, sending Decimus stumbling backwards, attempting to regain his bearings. Before he could, however, Silphina lashed out with a biotic push, sending him careening upwards and smashing through the stairwell's guardrail in a cloud of splinters.

Blocking out the pain, he dove to the side as the asari thundered towards him and stomped down. Her foot, intended to hit Decimus, instead broke through the floorboard. Taking the window of opportunity, the turian lunged forward with a strong uppercut, knocking the asari's foot out of the floor and knocking her over. He reached for his pistol, but once again, Silphina was on her feet, this time sending out a much stronger biotic attack. The blue wave of dark energy hit him square in the chest, sending him arcing into the air and smashing through the weakened floorboard with a curse of pain. The asari leapt down after him, gliding towards the winded turian and reaching for another weapon; but before she could, Decimus brought his legs up, wrapping them around her midsection in a scissor position and rolling to the side, slamming the asari to the ground.

With a groan, the turian pushed himself to his feet, but by the time he was up, Silphina was already charging towards him again. He ducked, letting her fist swing over him, and gave her a jab to the stomach, winding her, before shoving his boot square into her chest and knocking her backwards yet again. She didn't fall, however, and before he knew it, he was soaring backwards, from another biotic push Silphina threw at him. He crashed into the far wall, colliding with a bookshelf, which toppled over from the impact and smashed to the ground with Decimus' leg stuck under it. Cursing under his breath, he attempted to lift it, but to no avail.

"So…Decimus Maxus," Silphina began, slowly pacing towards him. Decimus reached for his pistol, firing a few shots at the asari, all which harmlessly bounced off her barriers. She raised her omni-tool, sabotaging his pistol's cooling mechanism and making it _hiss _before he dropped it, shaking his hand in pain as the weapon began to glow red-hot.

"How long did you think you could run before another Spectre found you?" She asked, looking down at him with a contemptuous glare. She reached into her holster, unclipping the silver handgun, and pointed it directly at his forehead. The weapon clicked twice as it unfolded, the barrel now inches away from his eyes.

_Wait…guns don't click twice…_

"You're pointing that at the wrong person, Spectre." Kesh hissed, pointing his own pistol at the back of the asari's neck.

Silphina dared to glance behind her. "Is that right?" She tightened her grip on the weapon clutched in her hand.

"Decimus was set up," Kesh began. "He was framed."

The asari laughed sarcastically. "You're going to need proof before you make claims like that."

Kesh nodded. "Decimus, give me your omni-tool."

The turian nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and tossing the small device to Kesh. He opened it, never lowering his weapon from the asari's neck, and began the recording.

"Alright Dorik, the stuff your boss sent me looks good. When you cross the scanner in the capital, it'll show up as Decimus rather than whoever steps through. I hope you've got a turian for the job."

"We've got that covered."

"All right, then. How much trouble could come out of this? I doubt Decimus will approve of you using his identity to kidnap an ambassador."

"That won't be a problem. The Council will be sending him to Judea soon. I'll leave some men behind to take care of him." The recording ended in static, and a bitter silence followed.

"That voice…the human, he was my contact the Council sent me to…" Silphina said, lowering her gaze slightly.

"Hossle?" Decimus asked.

The asari nodded, her pistol still pointed directly at him, but her hold on it was weakening.

"He was my contact a little while ago too. While those responsible for that incident on Judea strutted around with my name, he forged his identity on to me. He used the Spectre-grade explosives I brought with me to destroy the Capital building. You're lucky he's dead, or he would've stabbed you in the back as well."

"But…how would they steal a _Spectre's _identity?" She asked.

"There's either a Councillor or another Spectre involved. A Councillor is more likely. That batarian in the recording _knew _the Council would send me to Judea, and they sent me to Hossle, who was obviously dirty."

There was a long, bitter silence, Silphina keeping her weapon pointed at Decimus' head, Kesh in turn aiming his at her neck. Finally, the asari lowered it. "Do you have any idea who it was?"

Decimus shook his head. "We're climbing the ladder. Sanike Dah-Ola, a weapons dealer, was involved, and we got him, now we're after a 'Dorik Kai-Shan,' the group's leader."

"And you think he'll know who put this all in motion?"

Decimus nodded.

"If you want more proof…" Kesh said. "Come with us. See for yourself."

_Are you crazy? That's just asking for a knife in the back._

Silphina glanced over her shoulder, looking at the salarian quizzically. "You trust me that much already?"

Kesh laughed. "No. But I've heard about you. If you see for certain that Decimus was framed, you'll help. It's in your nature."

"Kesh…" Decimus muttered uncertainly.

The salarian didn't reply, just crossed his arms and looked straight at Silphina. "I don't expect you to trust us, and I don't trust you, but we could work together here regardless."

The asari sighed. "Fine. You have proof, I'll play along. For now."

Kesh beckoned towards the door, smiling. "Come on. There's a meeting with one of Dorik's men not far from here."

The two of them began to step out the door, until Decimus called out. "Yeah, just forget about me, alright."

Kesh turned, looking first at him, and then at the bookshelf his leg was lodged under. "Come on, help me with this."

Silphina and Kesh heaved the massive chunk of wood off his leg, causing Decimus to wince in pain. He rose slowly, trying to keep pressure off the stiffened joint.

"Alright…let's go…"

* * *

"Were you followed?" The turian asked, nervously glancing around the room.

"Do you see anyone else here?" Birkash growled.

Decimus, Kesh, and Silphina were huddled on the clock tower's second floor, listening in through a gap in the wooden floorboard. They had managed to get here and find a hiding place before Birkash and the three turians by about a minute. The silence from the trip here still lingered; Decimus had insisted on staying behind the whole way, never wanting to turn his back on Silphina. Kesh, however, seemed to trust her for now, and Kesh's intuition was usually correct, so Decimus would have to play along, at least for the time being.

The turians in the room were clad in black armor, a symbol emblazoned on their chests; a talon, a sun surrounding it, with several turian digits riddling the hilt.

_That symbol again! Where have I seen it before?_

Their armor was identical to the two turians he had encountered in the Executor's office, along with the talon of Joramus.

"Kesh!" Decimus whispered, nudging the salarian on the arm. "That symbol, the one on the turians' chests, that's the same one that was on the men in Executor Vakarian's office."

Kesh glanced at the turians curiously. "Some kind of cult, maybe?"

"Don't know. But I've seen that symbol before, not just in the Executor's office."

The four men below them began to speak again, so they stopped talking.

"Where's the human, then? I thought he'd be with you." The tallest of the three turians asked.

"He's in the shuttle. He requested it for his safety. Remember, officially, he's dead."

The turian nodded. "Right, of course. We'll take it from here."

"Good." Birkash nodded. "Is our deal with you done?"

"For now. Tell Dorik he's off the hook, but we may need him again." The three turians rounded up the gear they had strewn on the table, and filed out of the room. The last one, however, stopped in his tracks.

"What about that Spectre, Decimus? The one the boss scammed to get the Ambassador? Is he still here?"

Birkash nodded again. "Watch yourselves, he's a determined bastard."

When the turians were gone, Birkash looked around the room, as if he could feel he was being watched. At one point, the batarian's four eyes stared directly at him, but when he saw nothing in the shadows, he stepped out the door.

"Come on," Decimus said after waiting a moment. "We need to follow him."

They leapt through the hole in the floor, crept out the tower's back entrance, and down the alley, the moon the only thing lighting their path in the dark, run-down city. They had moved their car slightly closer; when they turned the corner they climbed in, Kesh driving, Decimus in the side, and Silphina in the back. The taillights of Birkash's skycar were still blatantly visible through the darkness, so tailing him would be easy enough.

"So, Silphina…" Kesh said after they were airborne, looking over his shoulder to the asari in the backseat. "What do you think?"

She sighed, looking out her nearest window. "The evidence is there."

Nobody responded, so she lifted her arm, activating her omni-tool.

"Here. As a gesture of cooperation." She began, clearing her throat. "This is Silphina T'Vail. Decimus Maxus is dead. I'll remain on Camala to investigate his possible contacts."

"You know if we _are_ actually dirty then you just threw your career away?" Kesh asked.

The asari nodded. "That's the point. If we're going to work together here, we can't be expecting a shot in the back."

Decimus snorted, never looking over his shoulder at the other Spectre.

"He's…slow to trust." Kesh said, looking back at her reassuringly. "He'll come around. Right, Decimus?"

The turian looked straight at the salarian, his hawk-like amber eyes boring into his, and then looked away again. An uncomfortable silence followed.

* * *

It was still night when the trio arrived at what they assumed was Dorik's hideout.

The large, five storey warehouse was built on a cliff, similar to Sanike's hotel, on the opposite side of Lake Khanshar. It was built on a large overhang of rocks, overlooking the massive body of water, with no other landmasses visible on the horizon, just endless water. The building itself was relatively simple; rectangular, made out of industrial steel, with a few windows, one of them opening to the perilous plunge to the shoreline below. To any average pedestrian that passed by the building, it would look like an old factory rather than a hideout for a criminal organization; but Decimus knew better. Sometimes the best place to hide was in plain sight.

Kesh landed the sky car a few metres away from the main entrance; it was pitch dark, at this distance they'd most likely be invisible to any watch guards. Not that they could see any; there was a spotlight on the building's top floor, but it wasn't manned by the looks of it.

Birkash had landed just ahead, in a garage on the left side of the structure. The door was still open, so the three of them slid out of their car, crept up the small hill that lead to the entrance, taking care to stay out of the spotlight, and emerged into the facility. The lights were still out, but Decimus could make out the batarian man moving around a few yards ahead of him, seemingly rummaging through his pockets for his keys.

"Hold on." He whispered, raising a hand. Unclipping his pistol from his hip, he stalked forward, keeping his eyes locked on the silhouette of the batarian. Just as he crept up next to him, however, he flicked on the lights. Decimus got a quick look at the batarian's shocked expression before he lashed out, slamming Birkash's head onto his shuttle, knocking him out cold.

"Kesh, grab his key card. You'll need it to get into security." Decimus said, unclipping the shotgun from the unconscious batarian's hip and fastening it to his own. "Silphina, go with him."

The asari looked at him quizzically as he rose to his feet and ambled over to the warehouse's front door. "What? I'll be a lot more helpful with you than him."

Decimus didn't reply. He didn't trust the asari, not yet. After all, she was about to kill him just an hour ago. "I move faster on my own. I'll look for Dorik, you just clear me a path."

With a nod, he disappeared into the entrance, hanging a right in the dimly lit hallway. Unclipping Birkash's shotgun, he stayed close to the wall as he sauntered down the narrow passage, keeping his weapon at his hip as he glanced around every corner. This continued for at least five minutes, the building was a maze of twisting hallways and cubicles, but the navigation signs pointed him towards the main office, which was where he assumed Dorik was holed up. Which was odd; he expected someone of his prestige to have at least a few security guards defending the route there. So far, he'd encountered none. Why would he leave the place so undefended?

He turned the last corner, opening up into the hallway that lead to the main office. The wooden, gold handled door sat imposingly at the end of it, and judging by the light leaking out from under it, it was occupied. This all felt like déjà vu; the main office at Ola-Tan had a door identical to this one, at the end of a similarly foreboding hallway.

Checking his shotgun's safety, he charged; the wooden door snapped off its hinges, and he burst into the large room. There were no cries of surprise, just a cold and sinister laugh from the man seated at the desk directly across from him. Dorik's main office was unusually spacious, it appeared that all the furniture had been moved out, other than a few shelves and desks. There were no proper walls here either; only massive windows, the one on the left side looking straight over the hundred metre drop to the rocks below.

"Hello, Decimus." The batarian man, still seated in his desk, chuckled. "Want a drink?"

Decimus strutted forward, keeping his shotgun at his hip. He couldn't simply kill Dorik; he needed what he knew, and judging by the batarian's casual demeanour, he was aware of that.

"You were expecting me."

Dorik threw his head back and laughed. "Of course I was! I knew you would show up here as soon as Sanike sent me a message. That little bastard would never have been able to take _you_ down."

"Is that why this place is empty? You're moving out?"

Dorik nodded. "Yes. We're closing shop and heading to Omega. Much more business for someone like me there."

Decimus spread his mandibles questioningly. "And you're telling me this?"

"Of course. I respect you, Decimus. What I…helped, in doing was nothing personal. It was just the way the galaxy works. You eat, or you get eaten. My employer offered me a hefty sum of credits, which I need to keep my life going, even if I have to ruin some else's to get it. It's a cold, hard fact of life."

"You're sick."

"Am I? How many lives have you ruined? You may see yourself as a white knight, but you're not much better than me, are you?"

Decimus growled, tightening his grip on his shotgun. "All the people I've killed deserved to die."

"Did Rakreksia Morta deserve to die? Did that burning woman in Ola-Tan deserve to die? Did all those innocent humans on Shanxi deserve to die?"

Decimus didn't reply, just kept his cold, hard stare locked on Dorik.

"You and me, Decimus, we're alike." Dorik hissed, leaning his chair forward. "The galaxy will remember us for our actions, not our character. How many actions have you done, Decimus, that didn't involve someone on the receiving end of a bullet? When we're gone, we'll be remembered as savages, you and me. We might as well make it worth it."

Decimus lunged forward, sick of Dorik's rambling, but before he could leap over his desk and tackle him to the ground, a colossal amount of weight bulldozed into him, sending him soaring across the office and smashing into a metal shelf. Cursing, he looked up, blocking out the stinging pain, and was shocked at who he saw. Stralk, the same krogan he had been locked in a cell with, lumbering towards him with his teeth bared in a snarl.

The massive creature grabbed the turian on the ground, shoving his massive fist into his stomach before tossing him across the room again, this time landing flat on his back on the hard, wooden floor. He tried to rise to his feet before his attacker could strike again, but the krogan moved with lightning speed. Stralk brought his steel-clad boot down on his chest, which he just managed to dodge, but Stralk lashed out again before he could counter, driving his forehead into his with bone-crushing strength. Decimus groaned in pain, stepping back while clutching the impact point. Blinded by pain, he was completely helpless as Stralk drove his fist forward again, catching him square in the chest and sending him careening through the air, crashing into a window and denting it on impact.

Stralk laughed, picking up a steel pole from one of the shelves, and stormed towards the turian writhing on the ground, slamming the object straight down on Decimus' midsection, before picking him up and smashing it over his head so hard it snapped. Stumbling across the floor in agony, barely able to see through the pain, Decimus watched as Stralk slid a long, jagged blade out of his boot, and lunged forward. Decimus clumsily attempted to dodge, but it was no use. The sharp knife slashed across his face, sending a splatter of blue blood against the window.

Now blinded by pain and his own cobalt blood, he was helpless to resist as the krogan lunged forward, driving the blade into the turian's eye socket and twisting it, laughing as Decimus howled in sheer agony. Pulling it out, the sharp bone-carved blade now glistening with blue and white, he drove his foot into Decimus' chest, sending him skittering all the way to the other side of the room, colliding with the left window, the sound of shattering glass muffled by the wounded turian's cries of pain.

Smiling, he pulled a chain off Dorik's desk, wrapping it around Decimus' neck and lifting his face up so he could look him in the eye.

"I would draw this out even further for most turians, but I'll make yours quick." Stralk laughed, before lumbering away and wrapping the chain around a shelf's steel post. Still chuckling in his dry, sinister demeanour, he squatted down next to Decimus, and pushed him out the already shattered window with a laugh.

"Goodbye, Decimus." Stralk said, taking a moment to watch the turian fall towards the rocks.

_**To be continued...**_

* * *

_**Alright, maybe I made that a little bit too brutal for the T rating...**_


	8. A Starry Night

_**Somewhere in the Terminus systems…**_

_**January 2**__**nd**__**, 2166**_

Alliance Captain Dmitri Abrov stared blankly out his small cruiser's side window, his mind filled with memories and regrets. His ship was moving at FTL; his presence in the cockpit wasn't required, so the short, stocky man decided to move to the back of the ship, reflecting on his relatively uneventful existence, which would soon be over if things went as planned. The human had only a few regrets; he'd hoped to see his son one last time, but he doubted the kid felt the same. He wanted to tell his father he was sorry, but in the time he'd been drifting out here in space, the sickly old man was most likely dead. Gloomily, he looked down at his feet. His life could've been worse, that much was certain; but he felt like he could've done…_more,_ with the time nature had given him.

"If you let me go, we'll never see each other again, Captain." The disembodied voice echoed through his shuttle, in the same cold demeanour it always seemed to speak in.

"You're a menace." Dmitri growled.

"I don't mean you any harm. I have no interest in the Alliance. I'll do nothing with the…wealth of data you've supplied me with, I promise."

Abrov didn't reply, just growled and clenched his fists. Out of his few regrets, this was undoubtedly his greatest one. The human Captain's ship, the SSV Aalborg, was a highly classified vessel. To most, it appeared to be a civilian freighter, but in reality, it was one of the dozen ships sent into the Terminus systems, for various reasons, such as stopping slavers before they attack, scouting out potential colonies, and covertly gathering resources for their settlements in the Traverse. Unlike the Aalborg, the hostile ships in the Terminus systems weren't weighed down by Council and Alliance laws and regulations, allowing significant freedom when designing a ship. Because of this, Captain Abrov and the Aalborg crew found themselves frequently outmatched by the illegal firepower and upgrades of the vessels they constantly tangled with; so to combat this, Abrov had made a foolish and short-sighted decision; he installed an AI.

The Artificial Intelligence was made by a salarian group based deep in the Terminus systems, out of reach from Spectres or anyone else who may attempt to shut their operation down. Only when the AI was installed did Dmitri realize his mistake. In a matter of days, it had taken full control of the ship, killing the entire crew by opening the airlocks and venting the entire vessel. Abrov had managed to survive by hastily throwing on an enviro-suit, but his survival wasn't his concern; what he was worried about was the overwhelming amount of sensitive Alliance data the Aalborg had stored in its internal systems. If the AI got hold of them and managed to upload itself off the ship, the damage would be catastrophic.

This was why he sabotaged its control of the Aalborg's navigation and thrusters, severed the ship's outward communications, and clambered over to the cockpit to steer it into the nearest star. It would be a matter of hours before it fixed the communications, he didn't have time to bring the ship down somewhere; and even if he did, he'd be court martialed and left to rot in the brig for the rest of his life. Sacrificing the ship was the only sensible thing to do.

_What the hell were you thinking…_The human man thought to himself, ashamed of his short-sightedness.

"Proximity to Messor-Z7, three hundred thousand miles." The ship's VI chimed, it's feminine, monotone voice snapping him back to reality. In a few minutes, this would be over. He staggered over to the cockpit, dropped the ship out of FTL, and slumped down in the pilot's seat. Sighing, he closed his eyes, leaned back in his seat, and emptied his mind. He was ready to die, he told himself.

_It'll be painless…_He thought, feeling a familiar sense of fear boiling in his gut. _I_t'll be-

The Aalborg suddenly rocked violently, as if something had smashed into its hull. Cursing in surprise, Dmitri clambered to his feet. As soon as he was up, the ship rocked again, even more brutally than last time.

_What the-_

The stocky human's thoughts were cut off as the airlock burst open, six turians filing in. Dmitri quickly noted the tall aliens were clad in black armor, a white symbol emblazoned on their chests, and they were all armed. Instinctively, he ducked, hoping the metal seat in front of him would block any attack, but it proved useless. The turians fired in his direction, one shot cleaving through the hard material and catching him in the leg, making him curse as he toppled over, clutching the wound.

"Amadeus, change this ship's trajectory, Perrin, find the AI core." The tallest of the turians, likely their leader, barked. Dmitri could see avian alien's face through his visor; the stark white war paint covering his carapace reminded him of the old Grim Reaper legends.

"Please," the human whimpered, pointing at the skull-faced turian. "The damage the AI would cause if it went free…all that data…the Alliance would be…"

"We're aware." The turian growled, pacing over to the human man rolling on the ship's steel floor with contempt.

"At...at least tell me who sent you." Dmitri cried weakly.

There was a short pause as the towering, armored turian standing over him considered his words.

"A ghost." Before Dmitri could ask what he meant, his world went dark as a bullet entered his skull.

* * *

Unlike Decimus' usual dreams, he didn't recognize this one immediately. The air was murky; oily shadows surrounded the small tunnel that was his line of sight. Images of things he didn't recognize were constantly flashing before him and then being swept away, into the opaque cloud of grey mist in the distance. Confused, he tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was an unintelligible rabble.

_Am I even dreaming? _Decimus thought. _Or am I just dead?_

He scarcely remembered the last thing he had seen before losing consciousness; he was blinded by Stralk's attack, the world had been obscured by a blue haze; he remembered a falling sensation, but after that, he had blacked out.

_You're probably dead. This is just your punishment for everything you've done. _

The thought of being condemned into an unfamiliar sea of forgotten events made the turian shiver. He was about to close his eyes when he realized he didn't have any eyes. He was simply _there, _with no physical form to speak of. Now that he knew this, the sensation made him panic, and he attempted to flail the limbs that he didn't have. In the middle of his distressed squirms, the grey haze surrounding him faded. The image before him was clearer now; still murky around the edges, but he felt like he had a body again.

He recognized Secidar; but unlike the last time he had subconsciously visited his old hometown, he didn't have a purple officer's uniform, a bag wasn't tucked under his arm, and Aunt Octavia was clearly alive.

There was another figure in the image as well; it took him a moment to recognize him, but he soon identified the tall turian as his father; and that was when all the painful memories of this day flooded back to him.

He was only six years old at the time; like all turian children, his fringe hadn't grown out fully, rather than the long crest adult turians had, the adolescent fringe resembled three tiny horns jutting out of his skull. He didn't have any face paint yet; turians only received their markings when they reached sixteen and left their families. If it wasn't for his charcoal-black carapace, he doubted he would've recognized the short figure as himself.

His father, however, looked exactly the same as he did today. The same piercing amber eyes, the same charcoal carapace, the same abnormally long fringe. Decimus had never realized how much he resembled Karden; but then again, the two seldom saw each other, even before the rift that had formed between them when Decimus had chosen to pursue a military career, and Aunt Octavia never spoke of him. Only his mother. The old turian woman was always close to her sister; she was probably more shaken up by Satavia Maxus' death than Karden was.

Decimus' father moved forward, his son in tow. The way Karden walked always made Decimus think of the ancient Palavenian titans, each step he took was long and confident, his adolescent mind always thinking the world would shake with each stride. The young Decimus was firing off a barrage of questions as they approached Octavia's home, none of which Karden answered. He just kept his eyes straight, marching towards the door, and slamming his fist against it in four heavy, deliberate raps.

"You're going to have to stay here for a while, son." Karden boomed, looking down at him.

Decimus shifted uncomfortably. "Why?"

"I have a lot of work to do. Your aunt can take care of you better than I can."

"But I don't want to stay with Octavia," Decimus whined, pulling on his father's arm. "I want to stay with you!"

"I'll visit as often as I can." Karden lied, shifting his gaze to the door. Decimus crossed his arms, pouting. After about three minutes, the wooden door eased open, Aunt Octavia's face poking through. When she saw who was at her doorstep, she opened it all the way.

The usually frail turian looked much younger; her features were slighter and softer, and her fringe was shorter, like all female turians. The crimson Secidar clan face paint that ran down her nose and mandibles wasn't offset by wrinkles, unlike the last time he saw her. The sight of his aunt like this was almost surreal.

"Karden? Decimus? What are you two doing here?" She asked, her mandibles spreading into a smile.

"I need you to look after Decimus for a while, if that's fine with you." Karden replied. "Councillor Jarun's death has caused a bit of a…flux. They say I'm the most likely candidate for Councillor now."

"Of course!" Octavia said cheerfully, reaching out and taking Decimus' hand. "How long will you be gone?"

Karden shrugged. "As long as I need to be."

"I don't want you to go though, dad!" Decimus called out as his father turned to leave. The tall turian turned, looking down at his son with a rare hint of sadness in his eyes. Sighing, he crouched down, resting a hand on Decimus' shoulder.

"I'll see you soon, Decimus; and remember, when things get tough, the hurdles you encounter will be no match for a titan, and you're the strongest titan there is, Dec." With another sigh, he stood up. "Tinatas arp non setarc."

Without another word, Karden stepped away, lumbering down the sidewalk and disappearing into the grey mist.

* * *

Decimus' eye snapped open with a jump.

His vision was still blurry, but he wasn't completely blind like the last time he was conscious. He could make out a bright, yellow light above him, and a figure in the corner of his eye. His vision slowly came into focus; and he recognized where he was. Kesh's shuttle, in the passenger bay. He was lying on a bed, a piece of medical fabric wrapped around his right leg and arm, along with the bloodied piece of cotton covering his left eye. Silphina sat beside him, tightening the knot of the white cloth wrapped around his knee.

"Don't get up too quickly." She said, putting a hand on his chest as he attempted to sit up. He shivered slightly at the contact.

"Wha-what happened?" Decimus muttered, gently tapping his fingers against his eye, remembering with a wince that it wasn't even there anymore.

"You need to stop getting tossed around, Decimus." Kesh chuckled, stepping into the room from the cockpit. "Whoever did all this threw you out the window. If it wasn't for Silphina here catching you with a stasis field, you'd be a little smear on the rocks."

Decimus turned, nodding at the asari uneasily. "Err…thanks." He said, as if it was the first time he'd ever said the word.

"Don't…mention it." Silphina replied, with the same awkwardness as Decimus.

Groaning in pain, the wounded turian sat up. "How long was I out?"

"Only about six hours." The asari replied, moving back as the turian leaned forward in his seat.

There was a brief moment of silence as Decimus fell over, the pain of sitting up too much to bear. "Omega." He groaned. "Dorik is headed to Omega."

"You're sure?" Kesh asked, which Decimus answered with a nod.

"Then you may be interested in this." Silphina said, reaching into the small pack she had strapped to her thigh. "We found it on one of Dorik's security officers."

She procured a datapad, flicked it on, and handed it to Decimus. Squinting, (he was still getting used to seeing with one eye.) he pressed play. A batarian voice began to speak, slightly muffled from static and background noise.

* * *

_TO: Birkash Tar-Yut_

_FROM: Maloth_

_Dorik's crazy. I thought it was reasonable to move shop to Omega, until I figured out why he was doing it. The maniacal bastard wants to overthrow T'Loak. If he didn't pay me well, I'd be running for the hills. _

_Come back quick. Being alone in this damned warehouse with a maniac and a krogan is a little unsettling._

* * *

"He wants to overthrow Aria?" Decimus muttered, giving the datapad back to Silphina. "He seemed at least somewhat reasonable when I spoke to him."

"We could use this, Decimus." Kesh said, as Silphina stowed the orange interface away in her pack. "If we show this to Aria, she'll help us."

"Or she'll turn me in to the Council and make a quick buck." Decimus muttered unenthusiastically, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling through his single eye.

Kesh shrugged, deciding not to respond. Intent on breaking the silence that followed, Decimus asked:

"So…how do I look?"

The salarian laughed, stepping into the shuttle's tiny bathroom stall and tossing him a mirror. "No worse than usual, Dec."

He let out a dry laugh, holding the mirror to his face and wincing when he saw the almost unrecognizable figure in the reflection. A long, jagged scar ran from his empty eye socket all the way to his right mandible, the lower part of which had been severed off by Stralk's blade. Several smaller scars riddled the upper part of the cut-down mandible, along with a large, bloodied bruise on his forehead, the result of the steel pole which Decimus remembered the krogan smashing over his head.

"That…" He sighed, shaking his head as he put the mirror down. "Is not going to heal over any time soon."

"Hey now," Kesh snickered, nudging Decimus' shoulder with his knee. "You're looking for a criminal, not a mate. Besides, from what I've heard, some women like scars."

With that, the salarian shuffled out of the room, and into the cockpit. "I'm setting the shuttle for Omega, it's about four relay jumps from here. In the meantime, I'm going to catch some shut-eye."

Decimus knew salarians needed very little sleep compared to turians or asari, but Kesh hadn't caught a wink of it in almost four days. Decimus, however, wasn't tired at all. It was probably, just leftover adrenaline, but he had no desire to slip into a dream again. Sighing, he looked down at his knee.

"You do a good job of sealing a wound." Decimus said, turning to look at Silphina, who was seated on the other side of the passenger bay. When she heard his compliment, she moved over to the row of seats across from Decimus, and settled down.

"An asari huntress is given medical training for all species. I've cleaned up things a lot worse than that." She said, nodding at his eye.

Decimus chuckled slightly, looking away from her.

_Damn it, Decimus. She saved your damn life. You can trust her._

As if reading his thoughts, the asari sternly asked. "Are you still going to be watching your back when I'm around?"

It took Decimus a second to answer as his mind scrambled to figure out how to respond. "I…" He sighed. "Yes. I mean, I do trust you. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

She smiled, looking down at her feet. "Good, and..thanks. Your trust isn't misplaced, I promise."

Decimus nodded, and they didn't say anything for a while after that. Instead they both gazed out the window as their shuttle zoomed out of Camala's atmosphere, and into space.

"Trust means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Decimus asked, his eye still focused on the stars.

Silphina shrugged, glancing over at him briefly, before looking back to the window. "It's just the way I was raised. My father was a turian general back in the Judarius Rebellions. He always gave me the lessons a turian father would give a turian child. Trust and loyalty, honor and discipline, you know what I mean."

_She sounds like a better turian than I am..._

"What about your mother?"

The asari looked down at her feet. "She…wasn't around very long."

"Your father raised you by himself?" Decimus asked. He was a little worried he was delving into sensitive information, but he asked anyway. The more Silphina described her childhood, the more it reminded him of his own. He was curious.

"For a while, at least. He died three centuries ago, when I was about thirty. An asari can begin training for the huntresses when she reaches forty. I think he's the reason I joined in the first place. It was the best way I could follow in his footsteps." Her voice quivered slightly as she spoke. She didn't talk about this much, he could tell. "What about you?"

_The tall turian turned, looking down at his son with a rare hint of sadness in his eyes. Sighing, he crouched down, resting a hand on Decimus' shoulder. _

"I…" Decimus sighed, closing his eyes as the flash of memories shot through his head. "Don't…know."

Understanding, Silphina changed the subject. "It's strange, talking to you like this."

"Oh?"

She looked sideways at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. "No offense, but you always struck me as so…cold. Uncaring."

Decimus looked away from the asari, fixing his gaze on the black void again. "I've learned the hard way what happens when you get emotional attachment to anything. The more you learn to let go, the less you have to lose."

"If you let everything go, then what are you doing all this for? Why risk your life and limb if you're not doing it for anything or anyone?"

Decimus didn't reply.

_Who are you doing this for? Glasius? Glasius is gone. The humans? What have they ever done for you? Father? What does he care?_

"I'm…going to get some rest too." Decimus muttered, lying down and closing his eye in a fake attempt to sleep.

_**To be continued…**_

* * *

_**Rather uneventful chapter, I know. The next one will probably be a big one, so I decided it would be best to cut it off here.**_


	9. The Pirate Queen

_**Vatar, Kairavamori System, Omega Nebula**_

_**January 3**__**rd**__**, 2166**_

Mal'Nogar vas Upannvee grunted as he leapt out of his rover's door and onto the icy surface of Vatar. His usually dark blue envirosuit was concealed by multiple layers of thick fabric, which in turn was dappled by the icy wind that was gusting towards them, making it difficult to stand. The quarian's two companions, Jala'Tothyar and Mada'Niwdlab, were similarly garbed. While their envirosuits were a comfortable temperature, the freezing cold could at times fry their suit's internal systems. The scarves were worn more for safety than they were for heat.

"This is a good place for an ambush, Mal." Jala warned, unclipping his shotgun from his hip, Mada following suit.

Mal knew the older quarian was right, but he didn't draw his weapon like the others did. Vatar had low visibility almost all the time; the gusting winds impaired vision heavily, meaning anyone ten metres away would be invisible. The atmosphere was completely un-breathable, and even if it was, the cold would kill anyone who didn't don an envirosuit. Their contact was looking for someone with expertise on artificial intelligence; which made the location even more odd. If all they needed were a few tips on AI, why not meet somewhere more civilized?

The message that had drawn Mal and his crew to this planet had been cryptic. It said, quite simply, for anyone with significant knowledge in the field of AI programming to meet them on Vatar, and that they were willing to offer two hundred thousand credits and a civilian freighter in return. Accepting an offer like this was dangerous, but the reward was worth the risk. The Migrant Fleet needed all the ships they could get; even if they had to delve into some illegal research to get them.

Mal wasn't an 'expert' on AI per se, but he knew a lot about the Geth from his borderline obsessive studies of the enigmatic machines. While the Geth weren't true AI, he doubted there were many people in the galaxy with his expertise that weren't outlawed in Citadel space. Most others would probably think the offer was a trap set by a Spectre. That said, the quarian _was_ beginning to grow wary of an ambush.

"They're supposed to be here by now." Mada grumbled, tightening the scarves wrapped around her midsection. "Where are-"

_Crack! _

Mal jumped in surprise, spinning around and tearing his shotgun off his hip. He had turned just in time to see Mada, a hole torn through her faceplate, topple backwards, a dark red trickle pouring out of her shattered visor.

"Keelah!" He cried, dropping down to lie on his belly, his hands behind his head. He heard another shot go off, and he knew Jala was most likely dead as well. Their attacker was obviously using high powered rounds; his two comrades' kinetic barriers would usually block incoming fire. Closing his eyes, he held his breath, waiting for a shot to end his life as well; but the bullet never came.

Daring to open his eyes, he saw three pairs of feet, obviously turian, stepping towards him. One of them shoved their steel boot into his side, making him wince in pain, before flipping him over and lifting him up by the collar.

"Mal'Nogar?" The turian growled, his voice muffled by his airtight helmet. He couldn't make out much while his visor was coated with frost, but he could tell his attacker was clad in black armor, a white dagger etched on the chest plate.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Mal said, glancing at the corpses of Mada and Jala, the geyser of blood leaking from their faceplates leaving a crimson stain on the ice.

"We only need you. If the fleet thinks you're dead, they won't send a search party." With a chuckle, the turian cuffed Mal across the head, and the quarian's world went black.

* * *

_**Seven hours later…**_

"This is Wakesh Par Lum Janar Sorlon Tash, requesting permission to land."

Decimus hobbled towards the cockpit, his weight balanced on an old walking stick Kesh had found in the back of the shuttle. His leg injury wasn't serious; he'd had much worse injuries to it in his time, but it was stiff nonetheless. Silphina had given him two days before he could walk normally again, which made the turian sigh in displeasure. Being visibly impaired on a place as dangerous as Omega would lead to nothing but trouble.

"Roger. This trip personal, or business?"

Kesh scratched the back of his neck. "Err, both."

Decimus had only visited Omega once before; for which he was thankful. The de facto capital of the Terminus Systems was everything a well-raised turian was taught to despise; a city with no laws, inhabited by selfish beings who would choose their own well-being over that of the groups' every time. From their last conversation, Decimus guessed Silphina felt the same way.

Their shuttle drifted towards the docking port the operator had designated, coasting over the network of columns jutting out of the asteroid, each containing an attachment to the main city. The structure itself; a lopsided, bizarre series of arms and pillars attached to a husked-out rock, had always reminded Decimus of some kind of insect hive. Although now that he thought of it, the denizens of a wasp's nest were probably much more welcoming than the community of criminals that called Omega home.

"Wait…Kesh?" Decimus suddenly asked, remembering something. "Why didn't we go to the Citadel first? With that data we got from Sanike?"

The salarian shook his head, his eyes downcast to his lap. "We were hoping you wouldn't ask…you probably won't like this…"

"When you fell…" Silphina began, stepping into the cockpit and leaning against the wall across from Decimus. "Your omni-tool…you dropped it. It's probably under the sea now, along with all that data…"

Decimus didn't respond, just stared out the canopy window blankly as Kesh guided their shuttle into the docking port, fastening their ship to the station with a slight _hiss._ He had been so eager to clear his name and go after his target without the Council chasing him, and now that opportunity was gone. Unless he found more evidence along the way, he would be a criminal for the rest of his life. The thought made the turian sigh.

"Damnit…"

"Hey, everybody thinks you're dead right now. It's not like they'll still be sending people after you." Kesh chimed in, looking over his shoulder briefly. Decimus glared at him through his one eye.

Kesh shrugged. "Just thinking on the bright side here."

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Decimus? I could go in instead."

"I'll be fine."

"You'll draw a lot of attention like that."

"I'll be fine."

Decimus and Silphina were standing in the long line of patrons waiting to get into Club Afterlife, each of them growing rather impatient as the line slowly and unsteadily shortened. Due to Aria's strict crowd control rules, anyone waiting to get into the club would have to wait for somebody else to leave before they could enter. It was efficient, but it made the wait agonizingly long.

Decimus had bandaged up most of his wounds, tying a black piece of fabric over his eye and hiding the gash on his arm under his long, black coat. His strained leg, however, was much harder to hide; he was still relying on the long, wooden cane for support. Hobbling through Afterlife like this would be a sure way to draw attention, which Silphina had brought up many times.

The asari went out of her way to hide her identity as well; her usual cyan-hued skin was now a more violet color from skin pigments, and her icy blue eyes had been covered up with green contacts. Silphina had argued against changing her appearance at first; but when Decimus had reminded her what would happen if someone recognized both of them together, she gave in.

Kesh had broken off from the group; unlike Decimus and Silphina, he knew Omega like the back of his hand. He had a vast array of contacts on the station, and the salarian had gone off to see if any of them knew where Dorik was hiding.

The way Kesh had casually sauntered along the dirty streets of Omega reminded Decimus how much he _hated _the wretched place. Unlike the Citadel, which maintained a comfortable temperature at all times, Omega was always obnoxiously hot; most likely the result of the unmaintained pollution constantly being thrown up in the air. Which would explain the stench; along with the sweat, food and waste of dozens of species.

The heat Decimus could handle; he'd grown accustomed to scorching temperatures from his time in Secidar, and the smell he could block out. What really got to him was the noise. Dozens of languages from dozens of species were being thrown at his translator in an unintelligible wave of chirps and squawks, meaning him and Silphina had to yell to even pick each other's voices up over the crowd.

"They're going to search you, you know. You shouldn't have brought all of that." Silphina called.

"Spirits, I'll be fine!" Decimus replied, shifting his weight to the side. The turian was in a foul mood after the news of the data loss, and it showed; he and Silphina had been bickering for the whole two hours they had been waiting in line. Groaning in frustration, Decimus limped out of the sea of alien clientele, nodding at Silphina to tell her to stay put.

_I've had enough of this…_

He hobbled up the stairs and towards the batarian bouncer, who nonchalantly acknowledged him with a contemptuous glare.

"If you're expecting to get in, turn around." The batarian said, his voice a mix of boredom and anger. "I don't care if you're a cripple, we'll have an angry krogan drag you out."

"Listen pal, I don't think either of us hav-" Decimus was cut off by a loud alarm coming from the bouncer's wrist. Sighing, the batarian lifted the communicator to his mouth, and growled.

"What is it? Uh-huh. Whatever." Grunting, he nodded at Decimus. "Aria's expecting you. Keep your nose clean while you're here, turian."

Beckoning for Silphina to follow, he hobbled through the large double door that lead to Afterlife's main level. The loud bass, which had been a dull echo outside, was now blasting at him from all directions, making hearing even more difficult as they made their way across the club's metal floor. The set up reminded him of the Ola-Tan main lobby; an elevated platform in the centre, a few scantily clad asari dancers swinging over a crowd of fawning aliens, the lights dimmed to a lukewarm color save for a few occasional flashes of blue from the many screens surrounding the main platform, and a few bar tables on either side of the stage. As much as Decimus hated Omega, he had to admit; there was something surreal about stepping into Club Afterlife.

Aria T'Loak was usually in her elevated balcony overlooking the club's main level, Decimus knew. The 'Pirate Queen' of Omega preferred to do her business in the club itself, in order to establish her status as the most powerful entity on the station. It obviously worked; for the most part, everyone followed the golden rule of Omega: Don't cross Aria T'Loak.

_Which…_ Decimus thought, slowing down as he and Silphina approached the guard on the left side of Aria's platform. _I'll have to break, if things go south here…_

The grey armoured turian nodded, pointing up the stairs to tell him he was allowed up, before strutting over to the bar on the far side of the club.

"Decimus!" Silphina barked, pulling on his arm. "Stop!"

He was halfway up the stairs when Silphina pulled him back down. Looking behind him, a confused look in his eye, he stepped back.

"What?"

"Look!" She pointed up the stairs, towards the level where Aria resided. Standing next to the violet asari, were three turians, clad in black armor, with the same white symbol he'd seen so many times emblazoned on their chests.

"Who the hell are these guys?" He muttered, shaking his head. Silently, he crept up the flight of steps, lowering his head as he tried to cue in on their conversation.

"We don't want to start any trouble for you. We just need a place to do our research, away from-"

"Then find somewhere else!" Aria snapped. "Believe it or not, some things even I consider _too _illegal for Omega."

The tallest turian shook his head, frustrated. "There's nowhere else we could go where we would have access to res-"

"No." Aria hissed, a rare venomous tone leaking through her calm demeanour. "Get off the station. Let the door hit you on the way out."

One of the turians stepped forward, as if he was about to say something, but then decided against it. Sighing, he beckoned for his two companions to follow as he made his way down the stairs, and towards Decimus. When he realized the three turians were approaching, he reached around, grabbing Silphina by the shoulders and shoving her into the darkest corner he could find. She struggled slightly, but when she realized what he was doing she remained silent.

"Follow them." He whispered, still holding her against the wall. She nodded, and only then did Decimus realize he was standing a little closer than necessary.

Scratching the back of his neck, he stepped back, letting the asari slip out of sight and after the three armored turians marching towards the exit. Decimus stood there for a moment, his eyes following her, and then made his way towards Aria's perch.

He didn't take two steps before a krogan was in his way, looming over the smaller man with a contemptuous grin.

"Empty your pockets." The massive beast growled, prodding the turian with the stock of his shotgun.

Sighing, he reached into his coat's inner holster, unclipping his pistol and handing it to the krogan. In order to prove that was all he had on him, he turned each one of the outer pockets inside out.

With a grunt, the guard stepped aside, letting him hobble up the remaining steps. Aria stood at the top, her back turned to him. Despite standing more than a head taller than the asari, there was an air of authority and menace to her that could make even Decimus cower. The two krogan flanking her on either side were obviously meant to establish one fact; she had absolute power over him right now.

"Before you bother bullshitting me, I know who you are." Aria said, not bothering to turn around. "Decimus Maxus. Born 2130 to Councillor Karden, now the most notorious criminal in Citadel space."

"Only one of those is common knowledge." Decimus replied, crossing his arms.

The asari turned, glaring at him with contempt. "You see, I'm not exactly the person to come to if you're looking for 'common knowledge.'"

She sat down, lifting up one of her legs to rest it on her knee. "When somebody like you steps foot on Omega, I know. You're not as secretive as you'd like to think."

Decimus didn't sit down, just continued to stand with his arms crossed. "You're not concerned about the fact that I'm here?"

She laughed. "Of course not. Some people would call what you've done in the last few weeks admirable. Me, I just think you're a fucking pushover. But you're not stupid. You wouldn't attack me right here."

The turian chuckled slightly, untangling his arms and taking a seat across from Aria. "I'm not here to try anything, Aria."

"Oh, then are you looking for shelter? If so, then you might as well get the hell out right now. I don't want to make the Council my enemy."

"I'm not even responsible for any of the shit you think I did, but I'm not going to bother trying to convince you. I'm here because I have something you'll want to see." He reached into his coat's pocket, procuring the datapad they had found in Dorik's compound, and tossed it to Aria. She flicked it on, listening to the entire recording without even a flash of emotion.

"So what are you expecting, special treatment now that you've done me a favor?" Aria sneered, tossing the datapad to her nearest handmaiden.

"No, I'm expecting your cooperation."

Aria laughed. "Oh, aren't you adorable, asking for _my _cooperation. I didn't know you got to make demands."

Decimus' expression remained stoic, but inside his head he was cursing to himself. He should've approached this differently. Now that he'd given away all he had to offer, he was useless to her. He had nothing to bargain with.

"I'm a Spectre." He began, falling back on the only argument he could think of. "You know what I'm capable of. Let me help you, I want to take down Dorik as well."

"Why don't I just turn you in to the Council? I can take down that scumbag by myself."

"You could do that." Decimus admitted. "But I'll escape, just like last time; and then you'll have one more enemy in this galaxy. Wouldn't you rather have me on your side than against you?"

Aria narrowed her eyes at him, considering his offer. After about a minute, she spoke. "Fine. But I'm not doing your dirty work. I'll leave finding Dorik to you, and then I'll help you."

Decimus nodded. "Fair enough."

He rose from his seat, and limped down the stairs leading to the main floor. That had gone much better than he had expected. He now had Aria's cooperation and resources; all he needed now was to find Dorik. This, he soon realized, was likely easier said than done.

"Decimus!" A voice hissed in his earpiece, difficult to hear over Afterlife's blatantly loud music.

"What is it?"

"I'm in the boulevard just south of Afterlife. Get over here quick." Silphina hastily whispered, before shutting down the comm link.

* * *

Decimus arrived at the area Silphina had designated about twelve minutes later. It was well into the night; the street was relatively empty other than a few shady looking humans standing under the shadow of the nearby apartment complex, casting glances towards Decimus as he hobbled down the shadowy boulevard. The road was slightly crooked, and it stretched for about a hundred metres, surrounded by a few condos and apartments.

After scanning the area for a moment, he found Silphina, huddled down behind a parked skycar. Keeping his head low, he awkwardly staggered towards her, attempting to make as little noise as possible despite his injury.

"What's going on?" He muttered, squatting down next to her.

"Look!" She pointed to the end of the boulevard, where he could make out four figures standing in the shadows. He recognized the first three at once; the turians he had seen at the club. The fourth one, however, was harder to see. He obviously wasn't turian; he was much shorter and stockier, and one of the black armored men was gruffly shoving him against the wall, leaning in close as if to snarl something in his ear.

"Let's go." He growled, rising to his feet and hobbling towards the scene. He didn't know how he was going to handle the three of them in his current condition, but he didn't want to let Silphina handle them by herself.

"Hey!" Decimus barked, stopping when he was merely ten feet away from the three turians. At this distance, he could make out the fourth figure. He was a quarian, to Decimus' surprise.

"This has nothing to do with you, _suluc!" _The tallest one snarled, stepping towards him. When the turian was close enough to see his challenger's face, his eyes widened. "Spirits…you're alive?"

"It's him! Get him!" Another shouted, lunging forward. He hadn't gone three steps when Silphina lashed out, sending him soaring backwards and crashing into a dumpster. The tallest one lunged for Decimus, grabbing his cane out from under him. Acting fast, he pushed forward, shoving the stick into the other turian's eye and making him yelp in pain. He brought his good leg up, driving his knee into the black armored man's groin before delivering a sharp cuff to the head, knocking him unconscious. The last one managed to dodge another biotic attack from Silphina, charging forward and tackling Decimus to the ground with a snarl.

The turian procured a knife from a holster on his boot, flipping it around into an icepick grip and raising his hand, preparing to drive it into Decimus' neck. Before he could, however, a loud _crack_ echoed across the alley, and the turian fell over, a large, bloody hole torn through his temple.

Silphina holstered her pistol, and helped Decimus to his feet. He nodded, putting his hands on his knees and panting, out of breath from the scuffle.

"Who are you?" Silphina asked, approaching the quarian cowering on the other side of the street.

The small man looked up, and when he saw the speaker wasn't one of the turians, he rose to his feet slowly. "M-Mal'Nogar vas Uppannvee."

"And what did you do to piss them off?" Decimus muttered, collecting his cane and hobbling over to stand next to Silphina.

"I don't know! They wanted somebody who knew something about artificial intelligence, and they offered a lot in return! I don't know why they were trying to kill me! They said my services were no longer required!" The small man was obviously terrified as he frantically threw his words out.

"Artificial intelligence?" Silphina asked, glancing sideways to Decimus. "Why would they want that?"

"I don't know what they wanted…" Mal shuddered. "They got me to look at an AI they had in-"

His words were cut off by an echoing crack ringing across the street. For a moment, all three of them looked around, confused, until the quarian toppled over, a hole torn through his faceplate. Behind him was one of the turians, still lying on the ground, with a pistol clutched in his fingers. He laughed as the quarian fell, a trickle of crimson leaking out of his shattered helmet.

"Damnit!" Decimus reached into his coat, tore his Paladin from its holster, and fired. The shot cleaved through the man on the ground's thigh, making him drop his weapon.

"Who are you?" Decimus roared, kicking the hysterical turian lying on his back. "Answer me!"

The man didn't answer, just kept laughing, and staring at the sky, before closing his eyes.

_**To be continued...**_

* * *

_**This chapter was a little difficult to write. It wasn't the first time I've had to keep an official character in-character in this story, but Aria is a lot harder to write than Tevos. Hope I didn't fail too horribly.**_


	10. Delusions of Grandeur

Dorik Kai-Shan bit his lip, holding back an infuriated roar.

"You're telling me _she _knows?" Dorik spat, clenching his fists in anger. He was sitting in his office, his desk the only piece of furniture in the room, having moved into the large Omega warehouse just a day ago. In that time, to Dorik's surprise, his plan was already falling apart.

Maloth and Birkash scratched the backs of their necks, glancing at each other and trying to figure out how to respond.

"Well…" Maloth sighed, lowering his gaze. "Yes…we think it might have been from a message I sent out…"

Dorik rose to his feet, turning his back to the two nervous batarians. "A message _you _sent out?"

Maloth shifted his weight from side to side, looking to Birkash for assistance. The other man said nothing. "Y-yes…"

Dorik turned, looming over the much smaller batarian, his lips curling in anger. "Can I trust you, Maloth?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You know what my father always told me?" Dorik snarled, opening his desk. "Stay tough, stay angry, and never trust any idiot just because they say you can."

With that, Dorik procured his small, Elanus model shotgun from his desk, lifting it up and aiming it at Maloth's forehead. Without even a moment's hesitation, he fired. Birkash barely had time to look away as the younger batarian's head exploded in a flash of crimson, blood and gray matter splattering against the far wall.

Without so much as a flash of emotion on his features, Dorik turned, pointing his weapon at Birkash. "Can I trust _you_?"

Birkash looked down at the weapon's barrel with his lower set of eyes, keeping his top set locked on Dorik. "H-how do you expect me to reply?"

Snorting, Dorik lowered the weapon. Birkash closed his eyes, sighing with relief, only to topple over sideways as Dorik's fist collided with his cheek. He winced as he hit the ground, spitting out a tooth.

"My father told me a lot of things, Birkash…" Dorik muttered, his uppermost eyes gazing around the room. "I remember the last thing he said to me. Dumped me off at some wretched slum, before flying off and telling me the galaxy has changed."

He lowered his gaze, staring at Birkash with all four of his black orbs. "That's when I realized he was an idiot. The galaxy will never change. There will always be bastards so fooled by their ego that they don't realize they're doing more harm than good; and there will always be people like us; the savages. People for the deluded to hunt down to further their misconception of justice, even when they're not much better themselves. The easiest way to prove you're good is to find something worse."

He thought back to Decimus, the turian. The former Spectre had been hard to read; did he think what he was trying to do was justice, or was he convinced he was simply doing what was necessary? Was he even smart enough to know the difference between the two?

"So, Birkash..." Dorik said, looking down at the shuddering man lying on the metal floor. "I'll let you go, for now. You and I are alike, unlike Maloth."

"Wh-what was Maloth?"

"An idiot that I don't have time for. Now get out of here."

Birkash sprung to his feet, half walking half jogging out of the large office.

Aria knowing of his plan is a minor setback, Dorik thought. The Pirate Queen of Omega was powerful, but so was Dorik. One way or another, Omega would be forever changed when he was finished. With Decimus dead, and his former employer carrying out their plan, there was nothing holding him back.

Shotgun still in hand, Dorik fell back into his chair, spinning around and staring out the window at the station that would soon belong to him.

_A new dawn is coming for my kind, sooner or later. When the boss is done, we'll be rid of him as well. My brothers and sisters will be shunned no more._

* * *

Two days had passed since the incident with the quarian. Since then, Decimus, Silphina, and Kesh had been going through a spree of consistent bad luck. Shopkeepers had stonewalled them, information brokers had refused to help them, none of Kesh's many contacts knew anything, and Aria was being her usual friendly self. As the trio made their way down a shady street located in Omega's 'Crimson' district; Silphina and Decimus bickering about the best method of tracking, they were beginning to wonder if they would ever find anything at all. Had the trail gone cold? Were they scurrying around the station asking about for nothing?

"Face it, Decimus." Kesh sighed, breaking up the turian and Silphina's argument. "We've lost him. The guy's made out of smoke and mirrors."

Decimus twitched his mandibles, not willing to accept the salarian's claim, despite the fact that he was most likely correct. There were a lot of people like Dorik on Omega, singling him out among the liars and thugs that inhabited the station was like finding a needle in a haystack. They could wait for him to strike at Aria, but that could take months, even years; which was far too long. The two days they had been aimlessly wandering across the station felt like too long already, and Aria was growing impatient.

"We just need to keep looking." Decimus said firmly. "We'll find him eventually."

Kesh grunted, but didn't bother replying. They continued the rest of their walk in silence, until they crossed the Crimson district's border, and stepped back into the central district where they had begun their search. Afterlife was just down the block from the small outdoor shopping center they had emerged in, which meant they had done a full circle of the station.

They climbed the nearby stairs, making their way down the alley and stepping into the large boulevard that lead to Afterlife's main entrance. Outside the large sliding door was the usual crowd squabbling to get into the night club, but there was something different about them this time. They were more spread out, and rather than giving off an aura of impatience, they seemed…scared. Nervous. Everyone was giving each other a wide berth, but they were all staring at one spot on the ground.

Curious, the trio picked up their pace, half walking half jogging down the boulevard and budging through the anxious crowd. He ignored the cries of vexation as he shoved a stocky human man to the side, stepping into the front row of the large circle of patrons. He was surprised to see Aria, flanked by a heavily armed krogan and a turian, staring down at a dead batarian with her arms crossed. When she saw Decimus shunt his way to the front, she turned.

"About time you showed up." The asari muttered. "You missed this idiot barge into the club and shoot a few of my guards, claiming he needed to 'prove himself.'"

"That's Birkash." Decimus stated, remembering the batarian he had seen on Camala. "He works for Dorik."

She narrowed her eyes at the mention of the name, and then gestured for him to follow her into the club.

"Gavorn, scare the crowd away. Krarg, grab the body and come with us."

The two guards nodded, and carried out their assigned tasks. The turian fired his rifle into the air a few times, scattering the crowd and making them scurry back to their homes. The krogan grunted, tossing Birkash's corpse over his shoulder like a bag of flour and following Aria, Decimus, Kesh and Silphina, who were already halfway into the club.

Aria lead the three of them into a small, rectangular room on the lowest level of Afterlife. It was relatively empty, other than a steel desk, a few chairs, and a panel probably meant for quantum entanglement communication. Aria usually did business in her booth on the upper level; she obviously didn't use this room very much.

"So, did you find anything on Dorik?" She asked, as her krogan guard dropped the body on the table.

Decimus shook his head. "Nothing." He decided not to mention the turians and the quarian. They were connected to Dorik somehow, but they wouldn't lead them to him.

Aria laughed dryly, turning her back on him. "So, what, you spent the last three days with your thumbs lodged up your asses?"

"Dorik is good at hiding. Nobody on this station knows anything about him."

Aria turned her gaze to the dead batarian sprawled out on the table. "Except for him."

Decimus sighed. "Except for him."

"Does he have an omni-tool on him?" Kesh asked, stepping forward.

Aria nodded at the krogan, who flipped the body over and ruffled through its pockets. When he finally found something, he grunted, and tossed the small device to Kesh. The salarian flicked it on, and scrolled through the late batarian's files.

"Not much here that we could track to Dorik..." Kesh muttered under his breath, never tearing his eyes away from the orange screen. "Except…"

"What?" Aria asked, crossing her arms.

"According to this, Dorik's men just put in an order an hour ago. Seventeen Afterlife asari dancers."

Aria narrowed her eyes, scratching her chin. "We could replace them with my people. I know sixteen asari who would be willing."

"But Dorik ordered seventeen…" Decimus murmured.

He heard a loud sigh from the other end of the room, before Silphina spoke up. "I really do _not _like where this is going…"

"That will work." Aria said, ignoring the other asari's displeasure. "So, we know where Dorik is and how to get in, but do we know what we'll find inside?"

"Well, I'm _expecting _an angry krogan…" Decimus grunted.

"So you're not certain." Aria replied. "I don't like uncertainties. We'll hold off until-"

"No." Decimus cut her off, stepping forward. "Word that one of his top Lieutenants was killed after shooting up Afterlife will reach Dorik's ears eventually. He'll flee somewhere, and you'll never find him. The bastard's smart, he won't slip up like this again." He nodded towards Birkash.

The asari's lip twitched. She obviously wasn't used to being told what to do, and Decimus' attempt to do so obviously angered her.

"Fine." Aria muttered apathetically. "Along with the disguised dancers we'll send in first, I'll give you a small force of ten for you to lead into Dorik's hideout."

"Just ten?" Kesh asked.

"I don't want to throw people away." Aria shot back. "We don't even know what's in there."

Decimus shrugged. "Better than nothing."

"Alright." Aria said, making her way out of the room. Before she left, she looked sideways at Silphina with contempt. "Get yourself ready, princess. You'll be leaving in an hour."

Silphina clenched her left fist, but said nothing. With a grin, Aria stepped out of the room.

There was a moment of silence, until Decimus shrugged in Silphina's direction. "Well…I guess you should, uh, get dressed. We'll…meet you outside."

The asari rolled her eyes, and trudged out of the room. Decimus's gaze followed her out, until Kesh snapped him back to reality.

"Come on. We should get ready too." He had the beginning of a grin creeping up on the left side of his mouth as he spoke.

"What?"

The salarian shook his head. "Nothing, nothing."

* * *

"Come on, you'll be fine!" Decimus insisted.

"I feel ridiculous." Silphina sighed from the other side of the door. "How the hell do those dancers _move _in this?"

Decimus grunted. "You won't have to do much in that get up. Just get into the security room and disable the alarms. I'll bring something more combat suitable for you, if you want."

There was a loud, unenthusiastic sigh from the other side of the door, before it slid open, and Silphina stepped out. She moved in a stiff, unbalanced manner; she obviously wasn't used to wearing materials like the shining, red dancer's outfit that was tightly latched on to her cyan skin.

"You look good." Kesh laughed, briefly glancing at her.

Silphina glared at the salarian. Shrugging, Kesh looked the other way.

Decimus couldn't say the asari Spectre looked like a dancer; he was no expert on these things, but he could tell she was attractive by asari standards. However, he doubted anyone would ever call her 'cute.' Like most asari, she was lean and had the right body shape for the dancing profession, but there was an aura of toughness in her icy blue eyes, most likely from the century of strenuous training she had to endure. She wouldn't fit in with the younger, endearing group she'd be joining, but it was the best they could do.

"How am I supposed to get into security anyway? They'll all be in one room, and they'll have weapons nearby. If we attempt to attack them, they'll tear us down."

Decimus shrugged. "Pull the charm on them. I know you're capable of it."

The asari raised her brow inquisitively at his statement.

"Uh…I mean…." He scratched the back of his neck, unsure what to say.

"I…I better go find the group I'm heading out with…" Silphina said, looking away.

"Yeah…just, be careful, okay? We'll be nearby if anything happens."

She nodded, and slowly stepped out of the dressing room.

* * *

_**One hour later…**_

Silphina stood at the back of the line of dancers, her eyes uncertainly darting around the street as they made their way into Dorik's hideout. The building was large and symmetrical; with two massive, rectangular bunkers connected by a long, metal bridge. Between the two buildings was a massive chute, which Silphina guessed lead to the very bottom of Omega, where unwanted materials would be thrown in to be shot out into space.

"Aha, finally the entertainment shows up!" A batarian voice snapped her back to reality. The tall, wide shouldered man grinned as he opened the bunker's steel, grey gate. "About time!"

"This one assures you its entertainment will live up to your expectations." The hanar, who had been acting as their broker, chimed. "This one thanks you for your business."

"Right, right, whatever." The batarian said, watching as the hanar floated away. "Now, all of you, step inside…"

The violet asari in the front winked at him suggestively, before prancing through the gate after the batarian man.

_Bloody slut…_ Silphina thought to herself, shaking her head. Sighing under her breath, she followed the group of sixteen into the front door of the building on the right. She felt so incredibly out of place here, that she was almost afraid of blowing their cover as she stepped through the double door. She was proven wrong, however, when the batarian that had greeted them gave her a lust filled glare. Trying to fit in, she gave him the most suggestive smile she could manage.

Grinning and scratching the collar of his body armor, the batarian stepped in behind her, closing the bunker's door. He could feel his eyes boring into her backside as she strutted forward, and she had to supress the urge to turn around and give him a good, hard smack to the head.

They emerged into a large, circular room, decorated only by a stage and a few chairs. A few more batarians were seated next to each other, grinning as their entertainment stepped into sight. They had obviously set this room up for this occasion alone.

"Dorik will be here soon…" She heard the batarian behind her whisper to one of his companions. "We better get ready."

_So we were right, this is his hideout…_

The large line of dancers followed the batarian into a small room in the back, obviously a dressing room. They stayed there for about ten minutes; the sixteen other asari spending the entire time giggling and swooning over the two guards standing at the door. Silphina, however, stood at the back, anxiously glancing around the room and resisting the temptation to roll her eyes.

"Hello, darling." A deep, raspy voice snapped her back to reality. The same batarian that had greeted them at the door slid in next to her, leaning against the bulkhead she had been standing by. Judging by his armor, he was one of the top security officers. "Couldn't help but notice you standing at the back there...you're different than the rest, aren't you? Well, so am I…"

_Damn it, now I need to vomit._

She winked suggestively, running her gloved hand down his chest and masking her sheer disgust with a smile.

"Everyone is here!" Another batarian barked from outside the curtain.

"Dorik?" The batarian leaning next to Silphina bellowed back.

"He said he wasn't in the mood to leave his office! We can go anyway!"

The guard grunted, and pushed off the bulkhead.

_They put you in charge of shutting down security, you better do something fast…_

"You know…" She said slyly, pushing the batarian back against the wall. "If you're so interested, you could have me all to yourself if you want…"

The security officer grinned. "I'm…intrigued."

"Why don't we find somewhere more…private? Nobody will notice one missing dancer…"

He laughed, smiling and lifting her arm off his chest. "Yes, let's."

He pulled her through the opposite curtain, jogging through the hallway it opened up to with Silphina in tow. She had time to read the signs as they darted past them: security was to the east.

With a grunt, Silphina pulled on the man's arm. He lurched backwards, and Silphina caught him, looping her other arm under his leg and throwing the batarian over her shoulder. Groaning in pain, the man fell face first onto the hard, concrete floor, several teeth skidding in all directions. With one final burst of strength, the asari drove her foot into the back of the man's head, breaking his skull and silencing him.

"Enjoy the rest of the show, darling." She muttered.

After hastily hiding the body in a nearby garbage chute, she crept forward, making her way down a dozen twisting hallways until she emerged in the security wing. Like most of the rooms in the hideout, it was mostly empty other than a few unopened boxes. However, a collection of terminals was shoved in the far left corner of the room, all of the building's security footage flashing on their interfaces. The guard she had killed had obviously been the one who had usually occupied this room, seeing as the chair was empty.

Looking over her shoulder, she crept towards the terminal, her eyes flashing over each key until she found the one that would shut down the cameras. After switching the alarms off, she lashed out with her biotics, breaking the terminal by tossing it into a wall, ensuring the security measures couldn't be reactivated.

"Alright," Silphina muttered, lifting her arm to speak into her wrist communicator. "Security is down. You're free to move in."

* * *

"Nice work, Silph. I'll get to you with your equipment as soon as I can." Decimus replied, lowering his wrist. He was seated on top of a large apartment complex, directly south of Dorik's compound. The building wasn't very tall, but it was the highest point in the small neighbourhood.

Raising his hand to order his team to stop, he unfolded the sniper rifle he had slung over his shoulder. Aria had given him access to her armory; this time, he wore a solid black set of high-quality Vortex body armor under his usual low-hanging black coat, along with a turian-made Armax arsenal sniper rifle and assault rifle. He wasn't used to moving with this much gear, but the load would be lighter once he gave Silphina her armor.

"Kesh?" He muttered, raising the rifle and scoping in on the left building's entrance. "You ready?"

There was a brief pause, until the salarian replied. "Ready."

Decimus had decided to split up the group of ten Aria had sent with them when he realized there were two buildings. Kesh lead the team that would infiltrate the bunker on the right, Decimus on the left.

"Copy that. Moving forward." Decimus whispered, raising his hand and waving, indicating that his team; a turian, a krogan, and three batarians, should follow. He couldn't help but think of Brennus, Leeandrus and Allovera as he slung his sniper over his shoulder and leapt across the rooftops towards the hideout, his team of five following. It had been a mistake by the Hierarchy to make him a squad leader; his leadership skill was minimal, but he would try his best to keep this team alive.

_Unlike Allovera and Leeandrus…_He thought to himself.

He held up his hand again when they landed on the small condo nearest to the bunker's gate. His five companions skidded to a halt, checking their weapons and armor.

"We're at the gate. You ready to go, Kesh?"

"Ready when you are."

Decimus took a deep breath, unclipping the assault rifle from his hip and raising the barrel, looking down the sights. When he was satisfied, he lifted his wrist.

"Let's go-remember, we _need _Dorik alive. Everyone else is fair game."

Nodding, one of the batarians stepped forward, a C-shaped object in his hand. Aiming it at the largest window on the second floor, he fired, a long, silver wire springing out and latching onto the sill. The batarian tied the other end of the line to their building, and when he was sure it was secure, he gave Decimus a thumbs up.

Nodding, the turian jumped at the wire, using his assault rifle to slide down. He closed the space between the two buildings in only ten seconds, bursting through the window and shattering the glass. He crouched down next to the sill, waiting for his five companions to slide through as well, before whispering into his wrist communicator.

"We're on the second floor. Silph, where are you?"

Five seconds passed before the asari's reply came. "If you're on the second floor, I'm close. I'm at the main security checkpoint, you should be able to get there from where you are. Follow the signs."

"Alright, stay where you are." Decimus replied, slinging the bag containing Silphina's equipment over his shoulder and flicking off the safety on his assault rifle. The six of them crept forward, staying close to the wall and keeping an eye on the green signs that lead them to the security wing. The main checkpoint was at the end of the hall, the holographic panel glowing neon green to indicate it was unlocked.

"Silph, it's us. You five, stay out here."

He lowered his rifle, and stepped into the room. The asari had her weapon pointed at him for a moment, but she lowered it when he caught sight of his face.

"Here, get this on quick." He muttered, tossing the black bag to her with a grunt. He turned away as she hastily stripped off the sparkling red dancer's outfit and threw her silver-hued armor on, keeping an eye on the entrance in case one of the batarians decided to wander up from the show on the floor below.

"Alright, I'm good." She said after about five minutes.

"Any idea where Dorik could be?" Decimus asked as Silphina tightened her armor's collar piece.

"I've been looking over the building's layout while I was here; the main office is on the west side of this bunker. I'm guessing Dorik is there, but there's a problem…" Silphina replied, unfolding the assault rifle Decimus had given her.

"What?"

"We have to go straight through the room where they're holding their party. It's the only way to get there."

Decimus lowered his mandibles in frustration. "Damn it."

He turned on his communicator. "Kesh, we think Dorik is in here. The main office is in this building."

"It'll take us a while to get across the bridge, but we'll try to help." The salarian's voice crackled through.

"Alright, we're going through the main lobby, one way or another. Let's go."

The seven of them stormed back down the hall, walking on their toes to minimize noise to the floor below. After five minutes, they reached the steel, double door that would lead to the circular main lobby. He could hear whistling and cheering inside; the asari were still going, apparently.

"There's a stage on the far side of the room." Silphina whispered in his ear as they huddled by the entrance. "Most of Dorik's men should be in the chairs in front of it. There were at least twenty of them last time I was here."

Decimus grimaced. "I don't like those odds…"

"I know; shooting our way through would be impossible. There isn't any cover in there." Silphina muttered, flicking her weapon's safety on and off.

"We need something big. Something that would take them all out at once."

"A grenade?" The krogan croaked, reaching into a packet on his armor.

"No good. If they dodged that, we'd be done for." Decimus replied, shaking his head.

"I'll handle it." Silphina said, rising to her feet.

"Silph…?"

"Trust me. Open those doors on my go."

Decimus nodded, and he and the other turian moved to either side of the double door, glancing at Silphina. The asari had her eyes closed, and was surrounded by a murky blue haze as she readied a biotic strike.

"Go."

Decimus pushed forward, the door swinging open with a screech. Two of the batarians turned their heads, and were about to bellow something, when they were flung across the room. The sixteen dancers on the stage dove to cover as a massive, black singularity appeared in the center of the room, the swirl of nearly infinite mass attracting every object in the room towards it. Chairs hurled across the room, and even the stage shifted, drawn towards the impressive biotic display before it. Silphina rose her arms, stretching them apart and causing the field to expand, before detonating it, sending all the objects it sucked into it careening across the room at all angles; chairs, drinks, and people smashed into the walls with bone-crushing force.

The krogan and three batarians on Decimus' team lunged into the room when Silphina was done, firing off their weapons at the batarians sprawled on the floor, even though they were obviously already dead. The other turian beckoned to the dancers crouched behind the stage, and they hastily filed out of the bunker.

"Nice work, Silph." Decimus said, turning around to give the asari a pat on the shoulder. Silphina nodded, panting heavily and putting her hands on her knees. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead she collapsed. Decimus dove forward to catch her before her head hit the floor.

"Silphina!" Decimus called, shaking her slightly. "Silphina!"

The asari was unconscious, obviously worn out from the impressive biotics she had just conjured. Cursing in distress, Decimus scooped her up in his arms.

"You five! Stay here, make sure nobody comes in behind me. Kesh, where are you?"

Kesh's voice came through his communicator. "About two minutes away from you. Have you handled things over there?"

"We took care of it; but Silphina's unconscious. I need you to get her to safety."

There was a delay of five seconds before Kesh replied. "What? I can help you."

"No, Kesh, I need you to take her! Get her somewhere safe, I'll handle Dorik."

Kesh sighed in his microphone. "Alright. Be careful, Decimus."

"You know I will. Thanks, Kesh."

He turned off the link, delicately setting the asari down by the door. He stepped back, his eye stuck to Silphina for a moment, before turning and sprinting through the room, thundering down the hall and towards Dorik's office.

* * *

Navigating through the west wing of the compound was more difficult than Decimus had anticipated; the layout was an infuriating maze of twisting hallways and dead ends. One route even lead to a staircase that opened into a hallway, except there were no rooms, simply a solid wall at the top of the steps. It was as if the building has been set up for the sole purpose of confusing those inside of it. Eventually, he found his way; a long hallway, a tall, golden-handled door cryptically sitting at the end of it.

_Just like Ola-Tan, just like on Camala..._

There were no signs to indicate this was the main office, but Decimus could tell Dorik was in here; the golden door seemed to be Dorik's signature. Taking a deep breath, he made his way forward, closing the distance between him and the wooden door in a matter of seconds. Unlike the last time he had approached Dorik's office, however, he didn't barge through. Instead, he reached down for the handle, to find it was conveniently unlocked.

He opened the door slightly, peeking through the gap between the door and the frame, before opening it fully and stepping inside.

_There he is…_Decimus though, looking at the batarian man that was seated behind his desk, his nose buried in a book. He resisted the urge to charge forward and tackle him to the ground; instead, he crept around the office, making sure Stralk wasn't lurking around in the shadows. When he didn't find him, he stepped into view.

"Where's your krogan pet, Dorik?"

The batarian dropped his pen, looking up at the voice. When he saw Decimus, his eyes widened slightly, but other than that, he remained emotionless.

"So you crawled out of the fiery pit to die again, did you? You really are determined." He leaned back in his chair slightly, clasping his hands together.

"No." Decimus said calmly, stepping forward and tossing the assault rifle aside. "I came here to show you what happens when you get involved in Spectre business."

Dorik laughed. "The valiant hero comes to slay the fiend, is that what this is? Let me tell you something, Decimus." The batarian rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing. "I was wrong about you. You're not a savage. You _were, _and now you're trying to atone for that. That's the only reason you're doing any of this, isn't it? Because you want to make up for the atrocities you committed years ago? That doesn't make you a heroic soul. It makes you a coward."

Decimus narrowed his eye, and Dorik continued. "If you can't deal with yourself and accept your place in the galaxy as a selfish, vicious killer, then you're weak. You're not willing to deal with yourself. That's the only reason you continue to fight. Because you're scared of what might happen if you accept your fate."

Decimus lifted his gaze, his expression calm. "No."

Dorik tilted his head to the left.

"I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing this because there are some people in this galaxy who just need to stop drawing breath. I was one of them. But the difference between me and you is that I saw the error of my ways."

He stepped forward, until he was within arm's length of Dorik's desk.

"Maybe I was a savage. Once. But what's the point of living if you're going to cry about what's already happened? Today, yesterday doesn't matter, only tomorrow does. There are some people in this galaxy that will never realize that, there are some people who will continue mercilessly killing without ever realizing they're selfish, vicious killers. You're one of those people, Dorik; and mark my words, justice will be served."

With that, Decimus lunged forward, driving his boot into Dorik's wooden desk and sending it flipping backwards. The batarian dove to the side as the desk crashed into the far wall, and lunged forward, driving his fist into Decimus' midsection. The blow bounced off his armor, but it made him double back, giving Dorik time to reach behind his desk and procure a shotgun. Decimus rolled to the side as Dorik fired off four bursts, punching several holes in the back wall.

When the shots stopped as Dorik's shotgun overheated, Decimus pushed forward, sending a shelf toppling forward. Dorik managed to dodge, but the impact knocked him off his feet. Moving fast, the turian stepped forward, kicking the weapon out of Dorik's hand and driving his steel boot into Dorik's side. The batarian cursed, and grabbed Decimus' ankle, flipping him off his feet.

Both of them clambered back to a standing position at the same time, Decimus managing to swing his fist at Dorik, which the large batarian dodged. Dorik reached into his boot and drew out a large, jagged blade. He swung it at Decimus, and the turian leapt backwards. With a roar, the large batarian lunged forward, driving the blade in the turian's direction. Decimus sidestepped, grabbing Dorik's arm and attempting to wrench the blade out of the batarian's hand. However, Dorik dropped it, catching it with his other hand and slashing. The blade scraped against the unarmoured part of Decimus' midsection, deep enough to draw blood.

Cursing, the turian slammed his forehead into Dorik's, making the batarian curse in pain and clutch his head. With a growl, Decimus drove his boot into the man's chest, sending him soaring backwards and crashing through the closed door on the far side of the room, causing wood splinters to fly off at all angles.

Dorik rose to his feet, and stumbled backwards. A gust of wind greeted Decimus as he stepped through the door after him, and he realized this door lead to the lower part of the bridge linking the two bunkers. He grimaced, a feeling of fear boiling in his stomach when he realized he was dangling over an incomprehensibly high height.

Sensing the turian's hesitation, Dorik slammed his fist into Decimus' right mandible, making him stagger to the side, spitting out blood. However, the batarian made the mistake of thinking his hesitation would last that long, and he lunged forward with his foot, only to find himself rolling backwards as Decimus caught him by the ankle and tossed him back.

Dorik rolled backwards, ascending the stairs that lead to the maintenance catwalks below the bridge. Decimus followed, thundering up the steps and attempting to tackle the batarian. He evaded him, and continued to move forward, until he reached the next set of stairs, which would lead to the main level of the bridge. Dorik turned, and smiled cryptically.

Decimus skidded to a stop, reaching into his holster and tearing out his pistol. Raising it, he fired; and only then did he realize his mistake.

Dorik was standing on the nail that held the chains holding the bridge in place. The batarian had sidestepped before Decimus' bullet could lodge into his knee, and before Decimus knew it, the bridge de-attached, plummeting into the massive waste disposal chute. He managed to leap backwards before he too plummeted to his death, but he dropped his pistol, and the weapon slid off the platform, quickly falling out of sight.

Cursing, Decimus rose. There was now a gap of at least five metres between him and Dorik, a chain dangling below the batarian's feet.

"You don't fear bullets, knives or broken bones, do you Decimus?" Dorik chuckled. "You fear something more…mundane. The feeling of being a step away from descending to your death, with no power to stop the inevitable. That has always haunted you, hasn't it?"

Decimus didn't respond, just continued to repeatedly glance at the drop, and back at Dorik. He felt the cold feeling creep up in his feet as he stood, paralyzed.

Dorik chuckled at the sight. "Goodbye, Decimus." He turned, making his way up the stairs and to the top of the bridge, while Decimus stared at the mile-long chute, frozen in place.

"_You have to jump, Dec." Karden said, crouching at the other end of the small crack in the rocks. "It's the only way across." _

"_I can't." The five year old turian murmured, paralyzed by fear. "I'll fall." _

"_You won't." Karden persisted. "I'll catch you." _

_The young turian didn't respond, just stood frozen while his father smiled at him. "No leap is too large for a titan, Decimus." _

"No leap…" Decimus muttered, shifting his feet on the metal catwalk. "Is too large for a titan…"

"_You have to jump, son." _

"You have…to jump."

Without a second thought, Decimus stepped backwards, before charging forward, leaping across the gap. Time seemed to slow down as he soared across the chute; and he desperately tried to block out the feeling of freefall. He closed his eyes, preparing to plummet to his demise, but then his hands fastened around something solid.

Daring to open his eye, he saw he had latched onto the chain that was dangling beneath Dorik's feet. Fighting back the urge to let out a triumphant cry, he ascended the steel chain, one hand reaching over the other and climbing to the top.

Not even taking the opportunity to rest, he stormed up the stairs, thundering across the wide, concrete road at the top of the bridge and towards Dorik. The batarian heard his approach and he turned, a shocked expression on his face.

"Wha-how?" His words were cut off as Decimus dove forward, colliding with the large man's midsection and sending him crashing to the ground. Growling, Decimus brought his fist down, breaking the batarian's nose before wrapping his hands around his throat and dragging him towards the rail of the bridge, dangling him over the edge.

"So, I ask again, where is your krogan this time?"

Dorik laughed, bringing his head back and gazing out at the station that could have been his. "He got a better offer. I believe he's working for my former employer now."

"And who is that?"

Dorik chuckled again, throwing his head back even further in a fit of hysterical laughing. "Figure it out for yourself."

With that, he kicked forward, his two steel boots colliding with Decimus' midsection. Grunting in pain, he lost his grip, and Dorik slipped off the rail, descending down the long chute to his death.

"Damn it!" Decimus roared, looking over the railing as Dorik plummeted to his demise, laughing the whole way.

Breathing hard, he slid down the railing, taking a seat against it and looking up at the sky. It was over. He had no leads, because Dorik was brave enough to not give them up. He let out a deep sigh.

Dorik Kai-Shan was dead; but he had failed.

* * *

Decimus settled down on one of the rows of seats in Kesh's shuttle, across from the bed where Silphina was still out cold. The asari was still in her armor, her head resting peacefully against a pillow Kesh had put out for her.

"You're here? What happened, Decimus?" Kesh asked, concerned as he stepped into the passenger bay. "What's wrong?"

"Dorik is dead." Decimus said flatly, staring out the window.

"What's so bad about that?"

"I didn't get anything out of him. He's just…gone. He killed himself before I could question him."

"So…you don't…"

"I don't have any idea what to do." Decimus sighed. "It's over."

Kesh didn't say anything, just looked down at his feet. Without another word, he stepped into the cockpit, and undocked the shuttle. Decimus had already spoken with Aria before he left. The Pirate Queen grudgingly thanked him for his assistance, and then insisted he got the hell off the station before he drew attention from the Council. Decimus had agreed.

Resting his head back, he stared at the ceiling. He had failed; and Decimus had never taken failure easily. Leeandrus and Allovera, Ola-Tan. He was telling the truth when he told Dorik he was done thinking about the past, but he couldn't help it when the memories were forced upon him.

"D-Decimus?" He heard Silphina yawn after about an hour. "Wh-what happened?"

"I failed, Silph."

The asari rose from her bed slowly, staggering over to take a seat next to him. "What?"

"I don't know anything new. Dorik…I got him, but…he jumped before I could get anything out of him…" Decimus muttered, putting his head in his hands.

"It's not your fault, Decimus."

"Yes it is!" He barked, fixing his one amber eye on the asari. "I should've known not to risk that!"

"You know something my father always told me?" Silphina said, looking straight back at him. "He always said 'failure just gives you more reason to win the next time.'"

"But there's not going to _be _a next time!" Decimus snapped.

"Says who?" Silphina said firmly. "You've failed before, and you're still here. The only thing that assures there won't be a next time is death, and you haven't died yet."

Decimus sighed, but didn't respond.

"You're not alone, Decimus. Kesh and I are with you, every step of the way."

He looked at the asari straight in the eyes, amber meeting blue. He held his gaze for a few seconds, before lowering it. "Thanks."

"Remember what I said about never letting things go?" Silphina asked, resting a hand on Decimus' knee. The contact made him shiver slightly, but he didn't resist. "You damn well _better_ not let go of this. You'll find a way. We'll find a way."

"You wanted to know about my family?" Decimus said, changing the subject when he remembered their previous conversation like this.

"I figured you'd tell me when you felt up to it."

"I…appreciate that patience." He said, nodding. "Well, I had a mother. Never knew her, but she was there for a while at least. Died of a flesh-eating disease when I was a month old."

"Sounds familiar." Silphina whispered, her eyes downcast to her lap. "I'm…sorry."

"I thought the world of her, despite having never seen her in person. My father raised me for a while, until he became Councillor. Then he dropped me off at my Aunt Octavia's doorstep and never looked back."

"You don't talk about this much, do you?"

Decimus looked up, locking eyes with Silphina. "Only with people I trust enough to tell it to."

After registering what he had said, she smiled sweetly, an odd sight given her usual demeanour.

"So when I turned fifteen, I shipped off to boot camp like every other turian. I was deemed to have 'skills beyond the average recruit' and was put into the Blackwatch instead of the army. I fought rebels, separatists, and then humans, when they came around. When I got back from Shanxi, I returned to Secidar, my hometown, to find my Aunt Octavia had been murdered. I never found out who killed her, the only evidence was…"

_But she was obviously murdered; and the only evidence of who was on the roof. Emblazoned in red, a sun surrounding it, was a talon, riddled with several ancient turian digits…_

"What was it?" Silphina asked, snapping him back to reality.

"A…drawing. Anyway, a year later I was recommended to become a Spectre by Glasius Marcudius, a long-time turian Spectre. I was accepted, and Glasius served as my mentor for a long while. Until he died. Like my aunt, I never found out who…"

_Decimus stepped inside, closing the door behind him as Glasius scurried back into his living room, tossing papers around and knocking a chair over in his flurried attempt to tidy up. One of the scraps fluttered across the room, wedging itself under Decimus' boot. Several digits from a dialect Decimus didn't recognize were hastily scribbled across it, obviously jotted down in a hurry. Despite not recognizing the language, the letters looked familiar, as if he'd seen them before…_

"By the spirits…" Decimus murmured, rapidly shooting to his feet.

"What?" Silphina asked, concerned.

"Kesh!" Decimus called. "Get over here!"

The salarian shuffled into the room, his usual quizzical look displayed on his face. Decimus moved quickly, throwing everything off of the shuttle's far desk and pulling out a pen from a drawer. Kesh looked to Silphina, who shrugged and looked back at the turian swiftly jotting down notes on Kesh's table. When the salarian and asari looked over his shoulder to see what Decimus had drawn, they both looked at each other again, confused.

"That's…" Kesh said, scratching his neck.

"The symbol we've been seeing on the armor of those turians, I know. But what you didn't know…"

Decimus reached down, scribbling some more, this time hastily doodling a bed under it.

"Is that I saw _that _symbol above my Aunt Octavia's murder site."

"So, they're connected." Silphina said, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

"Yes, and Glasius…"

He quickly drew a turian.

"A week before he died, I caught him scribbling this symbol down. He was _obsessed _with it, and judging by how he spoke, he was close to figuring out who it belonged to."

"So you think Glasius might have left something behind to tell us who is responsible for all this?" Kesh asked, raising his brow.

"Exactly!" Decimus shouted, throwing the pen on the table.

"So we're off to Palaven?" Kesh asked, stepping towards the cockpit. Decimus nodded. "How do you plan on getting past security?" The salarian called.

"I know a guy." Decimus said.

Kesh nodded, and stepped out of the passenger bay and into the cockpit.

"Thanks…Silph." Decimus said with unusual cheer.

"For what?"

"For bringing back memories."

_**To be continued…**_

* * *

_**Long chapter is long. I was thinking of splitting it up, but decided against it, seeing as this is more or less the 'finale' of this arc of the story.**_


	11. No Such Thing as Ghosts

_**Unknown location, Palaven, January 3**__**rd**__**, 2166**_

Ducramius stared blankly at the holographic screen on the wall, his fingers tapping together in impatience. Three figures flanked him on either side of his chair; two turians, and one human. The human was casting anxious glances across the room, shifting his weight from side to side while Ducramius' two turian brethren, both clad in black armor, watched him suspiciously. If it wasn't for the stocky smooth-skinned man, they wouldn't have gotten nearly as far as they had, but nobody in the room trusted him regardless.

However, that wasn't the thing that was bothering the tall turian man seated in the center of the room. What was infuriating him was the fact that their boss had called _another _change in the plan, the third one over the course of several weeks. Unlike most of the other members of Ducramius' organization; an enigmatic black ops group known as the 'Joramurian Pact,' he knew _exactly _who their equally enigmatic leader was and what he was about. The man was cautious and patient, he wouldn't hesitate to cancel all plans and wait another decade if there was even a small possibility that they were compromised; a mindset that often clashed with Ducramius'. He was the groups' second in command, he had absolute power over most of everyone in the organization, and it was occasions like these that made the turian feel like he had none at all.

"Kai-Shan has been compromised." The voice coming through the screen said, with the usual heavy voice filter.

"You don't seem too upset about it." Ducramius muttered, spinning in his chair slightly.

"He was expendable. I wasn't expecting anything more from him after he retrieved our…illustrious human companion for us."

"Could it have been the Spectre?" The human man said, stepping forward. There were rings under the stocky human's eyes, along with sweat and grime flecking his beard from days of sleep deprivation. "Decimus, was it?"

There was a brief pause, before the voice spoke up again. "Decimus is dead."

"You sure about that?" Ducramius grunted, glowering at the screen. "Decimus is hard to kill, and he's annoyingly determined. Don't underestimate him."

"You sound like you admire him." The human spat, glaring at the seated turian.

"You're a fool if you don't admire your enemy's strengths, Ambassador Ambrose." He replied, remaining calm.

"But he got beaten by an angry krogan and thrown out of an eleven storey window! How could he be alive?" The human was obviously worried, judging by his stuttering voice.

"I never saw a body. Did you?"

Ambrose bit his lip, but didn't respond.

"This is irrelevant." The synthesized voice said coolly. "The loss of Dorik doesn't change our plan, and Decimus is an unknown. What about the AI?"

"It should be ready whenever you are, as long as it complies." Ambrose replied, scratching the back of his neck. "Will it?"

"Yes…" Another disembodied voice, this one higher pitched, said. Ducramius had always hated the AI's demeanour; no matter what it said, it always sounded like it was sneering at him. "This has been an…illuminating experience. Pity you had to get rid of that quarian though, I was just starting to like him."

"I'll send my men and Ambrose to deliver it to you tomorrow morning." Ducramius said, rising from his seat. "I'm going to stay here. There's something I must…attend to…"

"Good. I'll be expecting a report in the next solar day."

"Of course. A new dawn is coming, tinatas arp non setarc."

"Tinatas arp non setarc."

With that, the comm link shut down, and the room went quiet. He stood in silence for another minute, gathering his thoughts.

"You two," He said, pointing at the turians in the corner of the room. "Load the AI into the shuttle's computers."

The tallest one saluted. "Do you really think Maxus is alive, sir?"

"Perhaps. If he is…" Ducramius muttered, turning his back on the man. "I'll deal with him myself."

* * *

_**Cipritine Spaceport, Palaven, January 4**__**th**__**, 2166**_

"So this guy you know…" Kesh said, glancing over his shoulder at Decimus, who had just stepped into the cockpit. "Can we trust him?"

"Don't worry about it, Kesh. I just talked to him; he made sure the security teams will stay off us. We can trust him."

"Who is he?"

"An old friend of the family. Uncle Lilihierax. Just…call him Li." Decimus replied, nodding as Silphina stepped in behind him. "He's not one to betray me."

"If you say so…" Kesh muttered with a shrug. "Cipritine control, this is Wakesh Par Lum Janar Sorlon Tash, requesting permission to land."

There was a brief pause, before a raspy turian voice crackled through. "Roger, Sorlon. Chief Engineering Officer Lilihierax has waved all docking fees and security teams on your behalf."

"Affirmative."

"Enjoy your visit to Cipritine."

The comm link shut down in a buzz of static, and Kesh glanced back over his shoulder at Decimus. "Well, he stayed true to his word."

"I knew he would."

Their shuttle coasted down over the small lake Cipritine's main spaceport had been built next to, before gliding into the holographic shield that lead to the shuttle bay. When they had landed in one of the far docking connectors that riddled the large hangar's walls, Kesh rose from his seat.

"You might want to put on some extra protection," Decimus said, nodding at Kesh and Silphina. "Non turians usually leave Palaven with a nasty sickness if they don't."

The asari and salarian nodded, each of them fastening a small breather mask over their mouths. It wasn't mandatory for aliens to wear protection when visiting Palaven, but it was recommended. Because of the turian homeworld's weak magnetic field, solar radiation was abundant on the planet's surface. Turians and other creatures native to Palaven had developed their carapace and other means of protection from it, but aliens, in this case, asari and salarians, had no such natural armor. Usually, those who didn't follow these safety procedures left with nothing more than a minor sickness, but much more severe health problems weren't unheard of.

Decimus threw on a cloak, along with several layers of scarves he wrapped over his face. He couldn't risk being spotted; it was likely every turian knew his face by now, and _every _one walking the streets of Palaven had some combat training. If anyone recognized him, even a mother with a child in tow, they wouldn't call for the authorities; they would chase him down and fight him by themselves, and Decimus didn't want to spill any turian blood unnecessarily. If anyone asked why he had his face covered like he did, he would simply say he was sick.

When everyone was appropriately garbed, they stepped out of the shuttle. The hangar bay was mostly vacant, other than a turian man sauntering towards them, dressed in an orange pair of engineer's overalls.

"Dec!" Li said happily, before pulling the younger turian into a hug. Thankfully, he had been careful to keep his voice down when speaking his name. "What are you doing here? I heard they-"

"It's a long story, Li. Just…thanks for the help. It means a lot."

"Yeah, no problem. I would like to know what you've gotten into though, kid." Li said, crossing his arms. Back when Decimus was a child, Li had been one of Octavia's closest friends. He wasn't really his uncle, but Decimus had grown to like the laid-back turian enough that he had always thought of him as such. It was natural that he would be concerned.

Glancing around the cargo bay quickly, Decimus leaned in close to his uncle's ear. "I promise you, none of that was me. I'm trying to figure out who's responsible, it's why I'm here."

"You need help?"

Decimus shook his head. "You've done enough, Li. I don't want to drag you into my problems."

"Dec, your problems are my problems too. Your aunt would've expected nothing less of me."

"Uncle, please." Decimus said, nodding his head in appreciation of his offer. "I'm dealing with some dangerous people here. I don't want you to get involved. I…"

He stuttered slightly, his gaze lowering. "I already lost an aunt. I don't want to lose my uncle as well."

Li sighed, before nodding. "Fine. Just…be careful kid, alright?"

"You know I will."

"Take my shuttle, at least." Li tossed him a set of keys. "You'll need a way around."

"Thanks." He nodded, and with a sigh, he ambled out of the spaceport, stepping into the glaring sunlight of Cipritine.

Really, the massive city was the polar opposite of Secidar. Where the latter was a small town at best, Cipritine covered the entire island sitting at the center of the Great Cipritinian Sea. While the city's skyline couldn't match the architectural wonders that were asari cities like Armali or Serrice, Cipritine's towering silver spires, each connected by airtight walkways and monorails, were impressive nonetheless. Skycars soared high above the lower streets, while a few wheeled vehicles chugged along the city's lower level. People living in the upper floors of the massive skyscrapers rarely even had to go to the lower levels of the city; most of the time, entire neighbourhoods were built into the buildings themselves. Really, Cipritine was like a collection of cities inside a city.

Cipritine's population was massive; about fifteen percent of all turians living on Palaven were somewhere in the capital city. However, the population density was relatively light, because the island it had been built up on wasn't any average sized chunk of land, it was a continent in itself; and Cipritine covered every square metre of it as the result of millennia of development. Due to its enormous size and population, Cipritine was a city state rather than a city belonging to a nation, governed independently from the rest of Palaven but still under the banner of the Hierarchy, which had been founded in Cipritine to begin with.

Although the _exact _date the city had been founded was unknown, it was at least before the second era, in the turian bronze age. Old legends told of an old turian hero, Marthanus Cipritinus, who had been banished from the kingdom of the Spirits by the spirit of corruption, Krysae, thousands of years ago. The evil spirit had slaughtered his wife and family, but instead of killing Cipritinius along with them, he had sent him down to the mortal world. An outcast, he had journeyed for decades across Palaven's eastern continent, eventually discovering a tribe of nomads settled in the foothills of the area now known as the Valley of the Spirits. After convincing the tribe he was sent by the gods, they had journeyed across the Cipritinian Sea, which the nomads thought could never be done. In tribute, the tribe had constructed the ancient city of Cipritine, where the hero had lived as a king for decades. Jealous of the power the man he had banished now held, Krysae had assembled an army from his kingdom, and marched on Cipritine. Cipritinius had repelled the spirit of corruption's army, impressing the deity. As a reward, the ancient turian hero had been welcomed back to the heavens, where he became Cipritus, the spirit of victory.

Obviously this was all just a myth, but historians could never find any real historical records on the city's founding. The first mention of it in turian history was in the third era, when the armies of the Joramurian Empire had overthrown the city state's government. They had ruled for decades, before they too were driven out, this time by the Legion of Cipritus, fabled to be sent by the spirit of victory himself. They had never been overthrown, instead they simply faded away when the age of turian nation states began.

"Impressive." Silphina said, snapping Decimus out of his thoughts. "My father always told me stories of this place."

They stepped into Li's skycar, before rapidly ascending to join the long line of taxis, buses and trucks zooming high above the city's lower levels. He could see people in the massive shopping centers and industrial areas built on the enclosed platforms that linked the buildings together; some were going about their daily lives, some younger turians were staring out the massive windows, pointing and staring at different shuttles as they rocketed through the sky. Decimus had visited Cipritine several times in his youth; he was sure he had been the same way every time he had looked at the colossal metropolis' skyline.

"Glasius' old home is about fifty miles from here, in the older district of the city." Decimus stated, punching the coordinates into the car's computer. "Should take about a half an hour."

* * *

The shuttle slowly descended, Kesh navigating it into one of the small parking slots in a cramped alleyway. It was well past sundown; Trebia had descended beneath the more modern district's skyline, which was now a collection of skyscraper shaped shadows miles in the distance. The old district of Cipritine, like Secidar, had never modernized fully. The buildings were still symmetrical and short, and they were all made of a dusty, grey concrete, with the occasional tower of a more modern industrial metal poking out above the sea of tiny condos and apartments. Kesh had always hated places like this; but for Decimus, he was right at home.

"Hold on." Silphina whispered, pulling on his shoulder as he stepped out of the skycar. "I see somebody."

The small alleyway, just a block away from Glasius' condo, was completely deserted at first glance. However, upon closer inspection, he could see several figures, clad in jet black armor, save for a flash of white on their chestplates. He couldn't see for sure, but they obviously belonged to the group the trio had been bumping into for the past few weeks.

"Nice catch." Decimus said, his voice low. "They look like snipers."

"Why would they be here?" Silphina asked, reaching into the back seat of the car and procuring two sniper rifles, both turian-made Legionary models, and tossing one to Decimus.

"I don't know…" The cloaked turian muttered, fixing his scope on the farthest one, perched on an apartment's fire escape.

"Maybe they're expecting us?" Kesh chimed in, creeping over from the other side of the shuttle, his own rifle in hand.

"You could be right…" Decimus murmured with a nod. "Maybe after Dorik stopped checking in they got suspicious."

"I thought Dorik wasn't working for these guys anymore?" Silphina pointed out.

"No…it doesn't make much sense."

The alleyway the three of them were crouched in was completely dark, with the orange shine of the streetlights blocked off by the two apartments on either side of them. The turians probably saw their shuttle touch down, however, so they were likely on edge.

"We'll need to take them out all at once." Decimus muttered, fixing his scope on the man seated on the fire escape. "I've got the guy farthest from us. Silph, you get the one on the roof. Kesh, you'll have the one at the end of the alley."

His two companions nodded, but didn't say anything. Shouldering his rifle, he fixed his crosshairs slightly above the turian's forehead.

"On the count of three. One…two…three."

Decimus squeezed the trigger, his shot in sync with the two other loud _cracks_ that rang out across the town. His target's head burst in a flash of blue, and he fell over, making a loud clanging noise as he fell down the fire escape's ladder and slammed into the lowest platform.

"Alright. Follow me." He slung the rifle over his shoulder, staying close to the wall as he crept down the alleyway. When they reached the entrance to the street, he held up his hand, indicating Silphina and Kesh should stop.

Narrowing his eye, he scanned the area. He couldn't see anybody, but that didn't discount the possibility that one of them was lurking behind a window of one of the dozen condos, alerted by the gunshots. Glasius' dwelling was the last of them, at the very end of the street. They could make a run for it, but that was risky. There were two streetlights on either side of the narrow street, they would stand out like sore thumbs, seeing as most of the town's residents were probably indoors at this hour.

"Silph, get the lights."

The asari nodded, reaching into her coat pocket and drawing out her pistol. It was an asari-made Serrice Council model, made to make minimal noise with maximum precision; it wouldn't alert anyone like their last barrage likely had. In four quick, silent bursts, she fired, and the street was drowned in a cloak of darkness.

"Alright, follow me."

He ambled forward, crossing the street and striding up the front steps to Glasius' condo, the panel on the front door glowing red.

"Kesh, get this open."

The salarian stepped forward, procuring his omni-tool and waving it in front of the crimson panel. After about a minute, it clicked, and the icon flashed green. It slid open, the metal door screeching slightly, likely due to lack of use in the past few years. Nodding at Silphina and Kesh, Decimus sprung forward, his weapon held in front of him as he scanned the front room.

Glasius' front hallway and living room looked identical to how it had six years ago, if Decimus' memory served. Because of that, he doubted anyone had been here for a while.

"I think we're alone…" He muttered, checking over his shoulder and lowering his rifle.

He made his way forward through the dark hallway, the only light guiding him the faint glow coming from the various terminals that had obviously been left on the last time Glasius had been here. There was something bothering Decimus as he slowly stepped into the living room; he felt like he was invading a grave, with the ghosts watching disapprovingly. He knew he was just being paranoid, but it didn't make it any less uncomfortable.

"What is this stuff?" Kesh asked, gazing around the room in wonder. Decimus had barely gotten the opportunity to look at it all the last time his old mentor had shooed him out. There were collages of pictures scattered on the walls, a string connecting them all, along with hastily scribbled notes pinned to almost every centimetre of space available in the small room.

"I don't know…" Decimus murmered. Nothing in the room caught his eye, although the computer screen sitting at the far desk was still idling. "Let's see if his terminal has anything."

He flicked it on, allowing Kesh to scroll through the files until something that could be of use came up. After scrolling through a vast array of seemingly useless charts, pictures, maps and articles, he found something. "Audio logs, could help."

"Play them."

Kesh nodded, tapping a button on the screen. Glasius' face came into view, looking relatively well rested but still on edge.

"_February fourth, twenty one fifty eight. I've been searching for months now, and still nothing. A group in the Terminus systems tells me they might know something about it, but the Council would never accept it. At the very least, I'd have my Spectre status revoked. I can't go after this thing without it, it isn't an option. I'll have to wait…wait until…the dawn…" _

The audio log ended, and silence followed.

"What…was that supposed to mean?" Silphina finally asked.

"Who knows?" Decimus replied, with a shrug. "Play the next one."

"_March fifth, twenty one fifty nine. I think I'm onto something. I need to find them. Hopefully the Council won't get in the way."_

"This doesn't seem relevant."

Shrugging, Kesh pressed play again.

"_January twenty second, twenty one sixty. This Decimus kid has heart. It'll be interesting to see how he progresses, but the request will have to wait. I have to continue this investigation. I can't wait for it…neither can…he."_

"He doesn't sound like he's talking about you when he says 'he...'" Silphina noted, casting Decimus an anxious glance.

"This…" Decimus replied, shaking his head. "I don't know what he's talking about here…"

"_October second, twenty one sixty. Joramurian steel talon. A Primarch killed. They'll find me sooner or later. I know they're onto me. I'll have to hide. If anyone finds this…this is probably the last anyone will ever hear of me…I just wish…Decimus, I failed to do what I was instructed. He is going to be very displeased." _

"Th-" Decimus said, looking down at his feet, his voice quivering slightly. "Is that all?"

"There's something else here. Hold on. It's a text file, dated October third, twenty one sixty. One day after that audio log…"

"But…he died on the second…Glasius couldn't have made this…"

"Someone else must have."

"Alright, open it." Decimus said, leaning forward as Kesh complied. "It's in an old turian dialect. I think I know this one. It says…"

"_While the sun burns our backs, we ride ever strong,_

_Soon, their kingdom, will fall!_

_From the mists of the mountains, comes a deafening call, _

_That echoes across the plains, _

_In this alien land we may not be one at home, _

_But soon this home shalt be ours!" _

"What…is that supposed to mean?" Kesh asked. It wasn't often he was lost about something, but judging by the look on his face, he was clearly confused by what he had just heard.

"It's an old turian war song," Decimus explained. "The Joramurian armies sang it when they were preparing to take Secidar."

"So…?"

"Secidar! There's got to be something there, why else would he leave an old poem about it here?"

Kesh looked uncertain as he rose from his seat. "What if it's wrong though? What if we start chasing after nothing?"

"What other option is there?"

Kesh narrowed his eyes, before sighing. "Fine. I'll get the shuttle."

* * *

_**Two days later…**_

Decimus felt a strange sense of wistfulness as he stepped off their shuttle and onto Secidar's spaceport. He hadn't been here for years, and the sight of the city, still looking old, run down and dusty, brought back every memory; good and bad.

Instead of taking a public shuttle, the trio had travelled to Secidar in a more traditional manner; by boat. Unlike a public shuttle, it was relatively easy to smuggle yourself onto a water transit vehicle; the only problem was the journey across the Pervasus ocean took a day and a half, and the car ride across the Semotus mountain range and the Periculosum desert took another half.

"So…where are we going?" Silphina asked, rubbing her forehead from the scorching heat.

The cryptic message that had guided them here hadn't been specific on _where _in Secidar he was supposed to go, but there was only one place Decimus could think of.

"My Aunt Octavia's." Decimus replied, shrugging. "Best place to start, I guess."

They ambled down the spaceport's steps, half walking half jogging down the long, crooked road that lead to the other side of the small town. He remembered taking this same route many times on his way back from school, so long ago. It was probably just him being nostalgic, but he couldn't help but feel like he was walking in his own younger self's footsteps.

After about an hour, they arrived at Aunt Octavia's old neighbourhood. It looked mostly the same; except nearly every house on the block looked deserted. The collection of small, windowless homes were all run down, the entire front section had even eroded off on one. The entire place had an almost ghostly aura; it was likely the residents had fled after news of a murderer in the neighbourhood. Understandable, but that didn't explain why there was a man seated on Aunt Octavia's doorstep, staring right at them.

He was clad in the same black armor he had become so familiar with, and judging by his lack of reaction at their arrival, he didn't recognize them. That, or he was expecting them.

"Ducramius, he's here." The man muttered, lifting his wrist.

_Well, I guess it was the latter…_

"Who are you?" Decimus asked, stepping forward. He could feel Silphina squeeze on his arm slightly in warning.

"Nobody of your concern…" The man said, rising to his feet. "Your concern is in there." He gestured to Octavia's home.

"Have you been in there?" Decimus asked, unclipping his pistol.

"No. But _he _has."

Decimus paced forward further, until he was only a few yards away from the small building's doorstep.

"Can you stop speaking in cryptic, maybe?"

The man chuckled slightly. "I am but a messenger, Decimus. At the dawn, you will understand; there will be no doubts."

With that, he turned on his omni-tool, cloaking. Cursing, Decimus lunged forward, firing his pistol at where the turian had once been, now nothing but a pile of sand trailed off from his boots. After about five minutes of cautiously scanning the area, they concluded he was gone.

"What the hell…" Decimus growled, clenching his fists in frustration.

"You figure Ducramius is their leader?" Silphina said, still nervously glancing in every direction.

"Maybe…" Decimus muttered, clenching his pistol. "Let's look inside."

He ambled up the rickety, wooden steps to Octavia's door, before pushing on the small, wooden board that served as the entrance to her home. It was locked, and judging by how it screeched from lack of lubrication when he finally pushed it off its hinges, it had been that way for a while.

"What the hell was he talking about when he said _he _had been in here? This must have been closed for ages."

None of the other two replied.

"Kesh…watch the entrance, make sure nobody comes in behind us."

The salarian nodded. "Alright. Just call me if there's something you can't figure out."

Not bothering to respond, Decimus stepped forward, emerging into the small home's front room. It was exactly the way he had left it after calling the emergency crews to recover Octavia's body. He remembered standing in the house for another hour after they had left, staring blankly at the wall before bursting out the door and never returning again. The only thing different that he could see was on the table in the left corner of the room; the old picture of him and his parents was gone.

"Nothing has changed…" Decimus sighed, rubbing his finger on the desk and lifting it to find a pile of dust gathered on the tip. "I remember I used to sit in this room, watching those old Spectre vids, hoping one day I could be just like them." He snorted. "Be careful what you wish for, right?"

Silphina didn't respond, just looked sideways at him, obviously concerned. "Are you alright?"

Decimus shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just…old memories. Let's look upstairs."

They climbed the small set of stairs leading to the house's upper level, the floorboards creaking under their weight. Sighing, he prepared himself to find nothing different as he turned the corner and stepped into Aunt Octavia's old bedroom. However, he was greeted with the complete opposite.

Shelves were torn apart, and various pieces of furniture were strewn about the floor in a mountain of old scraps, except for where a path had been made, leading directly to the bed in the center of the room.

"Someone has definitely been in here." Decimus stated. He crouched down, dabbing a finger in the trail of blood leading to the bed. "This blood wasn't here the last time I left, but it's old."

Rising to his feet, he glanced up at the symbol painted on the roof. There was something…different about it that Decimus couldn't quite identify.

"Hold on…" Decimus whispered, narrowing his eye at the turian digits riddling the dagger's hilt. "Somebody…translated it…"

"What does it say?" Silphina asked. It was written in ancient Secidarian, which Decimus had luckily learned in history class back in his school days.

"Tinatas arp non setarc…" Decimus muttered. "May you find solace in the embrace of the spirits…"

"What does that-"

"Hold on, there's more here. This wasn't part of the original translation." He squinted slightly, trying to make out the remaining letters. "You…pursue nothing but smoke and ghosts."

"Smoke and-"

_Crack!_

Jumping slightly at the sudden noise, Decimus cast a glance at Silphina before bursting out of the bedroom door, thundering down the steps, and pushing open the front door. When his vision adjusted to the light, he doubled back at the sight before him.

Decimus had never believed in ghosts, but the figure sauntering towards him was clearly real; the bullets that he had shot Kesh with hadn't been ethereal.

"Glasius?"

_**To be continued…**_


	12. Three Farewells

He was dreaming. He had to be. The figure sauntering towards him, smoke still drifting out of his pistol's barrel, was nothing but a figment of the imagination. He would wake up, and none of this would have really happened.

"G…Glasius?" Decimus said in shock, his single eye wide open.

The supposedly dead Spectre lowered his mandibles in a smile, and holstered the still smoking pistol. He looked exactly the same as he did years ago; white face paint covered his forehead, face and mandibles, beset by a collection of scars riddling his features. He was still tall, wide shouldered and had an aura of wisdom in his grey eyes; the only difference was his attire. Black armor, with a Joramurian Talon emblazoned on his chest.

"This is Ducramius. I found him." Glasius muttered, lifting his wrist mounted communicator. "Don't send anybody else. I'll be fine."

The older turian stepped forward, stopping when he was about two metres away from Decimus and Silphina, who were still standing in the doorway, Decimus frozen in shock. He took a step forward, and the younger turian tore out his pistol, aiming it directly at his former mentor's chest.

"Silph…get Kesh inside and help him, he looks like he needs it." Decimus said, not taking his eyes off Glasius, who hadn't flinched when his former protégé had pointed his weapon at him. Kesh had been shot in the stomach, Decimus could see. If he didn't get help soon, blood loss would get him. "I'll be fine, Silph."

The asari nodded, and lifted the salarian up by the arm, throwing it over her shoulder and carrying him inside. When she was out of sight, Decimus spoke.

"H-how could you still be alive?"

"Did you ever notice that they didn't revoke my Spectre status?" Glasius said, stepping forward slightly.

"But…that symbol you're wearing…you were investigating it! I saw your notes, I saw your logs!"

The older Spectre shook his head, stepping forward again and wrapping his hands around the barrel of Decimus' pistol, pointing it at his own forehead. "You were always determined, Decimus, but you never really learned to look at the details, did you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I was worried the Council would revoke my Spectre status in those logs you no doubt listened to. Why would they do that if all I was doing was investigating a supposed terrorist cell?" Glasius chuckled. "For doing something _they _asked me to do?"

"Then…what…?"

"I'm sure you've heard about that whole AI incident with that quarian. You probably didn't think much about it, knowing you. However, did you ever consider how much damage a 'terrorist cell' could do if they had their hands on an artificial intelligence? That's what I've been searching for, Decimus. For the past eight years I've been scouring every inch of the galaxy trying to find one that fit our needs."

"_Our _needs?" Decimus muttered, tightening his grip on the pistol. "So you are with them…"

Glasius smiled, stepping backwards slightly.

"So that's why you seemed so nervous when I walked in on you scribbling down those notes. You were afraid of being found out! When you said you knew _they _were on to you, you were afraid _I _was on to you! So you went in to hiding and adopted the title of 'Ducramius!'"

Glasius nodded. "Very observant. I taught you well."

"So _you _used my Spectre status to authorize Dorik and his men on Judea! Damn it, I trusted you!"

This time, his old mentor laughed. "Of course not. A dead Spectre doesn't have much power, really. I managed to convince him to hold off on revoking my Spectre status, but that would only get me so far. However…"

He tapped the symbol on his chestplate. "Those turians you've been running into for the last few weeks, have all been answering to me."

"So…Aunt Octavia…" Decimus snarled, tightening his grip on his Paladin. "_You _killed her?"

"He instructed me to do it. He needed you emotionally broken, angry, easily manipulated…."

"For what?" Decimus barked, infuriated at the man he had once trusted with his life.

"Didn't I once tell you that you're not going to get what you want just because you ask?"

"Fine." Decimus growled. "Then I won't ask."

He lunged forward, intent on tackling Glasius to the ground, but before he knew it he was lying face first in the sand; Glasius had sidestepped, and used his own momentum against him to send him toppling down the stairs.

"Didn't I also tell you not to make your attacks obvious to your enemy?" His old mentor said, prodding him slightly with his foot. Decimus grabbed his ankle, attempting to pull him to the ground, but Glasius shoved his metal boot forward, stomping down on Decimus' right mandible and making him wince in pain.

"Get up." He snarled.

Decimus rolled to the side, rising to his feet with a grunt. Glasius had his arms crossed, calmly looking down at his old student with contempt.

Decimus knew Glasius' fighting style; he would always wait for his opponent to make the first move, and when they did he would move with lightning speed to counter it. Decimus' best chance was to simply wait…

_Just stand your-_

His thoughts were cut off as Glasius lunged forward, jabbing his hand at Decimus' throat. He stumbled backwards, clutching his neck and choking. He had moved slightly, so the blow was relatively blunt and hadn't collapsed his trachea, but the attack hurt nonetheless.

_Or he'll just play off the fact that you think he'll wait for you to strike first…_

Still catching his breath, Decimus staggered to the side as Glasius swung his right fist in the younger turian's direction, but he soon found out the first shot wasn't supposed to hit him. Rather, he groaned in pain as Glasius' other hand rose up in an uppercut, knocking Decimus onto his back. He sprung to his feet quickly, and rammed his shoulder into Glasius' stomach, making the larger turian stumble backwards. Thinking he was in more pain than he actually was, Decimus lunged forward again, only to find himself on the ground after his old mentor tossed him over his shoulder.

"Don't fall for false openings, Decimus." Glasius said, with the same calm demeanour he had eight years ago, when they were doing something like this as a training exercise.

Once again, Decimus rolled to the side, staggering to his feet and ignoring the stinging pain in his legs.

_He never hits you when you're down, unless you try to take him down with you. He's always been a clean fighter, I could use that against him…_

He lunged at Glasius again, and the older turian sidestepped, driving his fist into the smaller man's stomach. Wincing, he doubled back, crouching down in mock pain. While he acted like he was clutching a bruise on his leg, however, he gathered up a pile of sand behind his back, and slowly rose to his feet.

"I'm disappointed, Decimus. I always thought-"

Snarling, he tossed the pile of sand in the other turian's eyes, blinding him, and lunged forward. He collided with Glasius' midsection, and they tumbled to the ground, the temporarily impaired Glasius shaking his head to get the sand out. Bellowing in anger, Decimus brought his fist down on the large turian beneath him, smashing his armored hand into his carapace until he heard something break.

Grunting in more frustration than pain, Glasius kicked up with his feet, causing Decimus to stagger backwards. Still blinded by the sand, he tried to rub it out of his eyes, giving Decimus the opportunity to wrench an old wooden board off Octavia's front balcony, slamming it over his former mentor's forehead and shattering the wooden board into splinters. A large trickle of cobalt blood was now leaking out of the open sores on Glasius' face, giving the sand beneath his feet a blue tint.

With one final burst of strength, Decimus lunged forward, driving his boot into Glasius' chest and sending him careening backwards, before smashing through a nearby balcony and lying there, sprawled out on his back.

Panting, Decimus limped forward, stepping through the broken wooden balcony and dragging Glasius from the debris. When he saw the former Spectre's face; covered in bruises, splinters and sand, he realized the older turian was smiling.

"Always the fighter, Decimus." He chuckled, his cold grey eyes fixed on the silver sky. "You've learned well."

"I thought I learned from the best." Decimus snarled, lifting the wounded turian by the collar. "Now I see I learned from a lying coward."

Glasius sighed. "I had a plan, Decimus."

"You always had a plan, Glasius. How did this one work out for you?"

"Well enough." He sighed. "I got this far."

"Then what were you trying to do?"

The older turian closed his eyes. "There are certain things in this galaxy you can't always fight, Decimus. Mortality, change…and most of all, your own nature. You and me, all we've done our entire lives is _fight._"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You can't fight change. You can't fight the inevitable; but you can try. That's what we were raised to do, us turians. Fight. Sometimes we win; but there's one thing, you can't fight, and that's your own nature. What does somebody who was raised for violence do when they realize they can't do anything?"

Decimus didn't reply, just narrowed his eye.

"They try anyway. Even when they know they can't succeed. The humans showed up, and how long before we're out of the picture entirely?"

"That's what this is about? The humans?" Decimus growled.

"It's in the nature of sentient life to want more power than the rest. We can't fight that. We've been the most feared race in the galaxy for centuries, but you _can't_ fight change forever. Sooner or later, we'll be gone. Someone else will take the mantle. You've seen what those humans can do. We can't fight change, but it's in our nature to fight; and we can't fight our own nature. That's the paradox, Decimus."

"So you've done all this because you _think _the Alliance might try to overthrow us? How do you plan on stopping that? Besides, the rest of the Council would never let that happen!"

"He has a plan…"

"Who's he?!" Decimus barked.

Glasius sighed, closing his eyes. "The hurdles…you encounter will be no match for a titan, and you're the strongest titan there is…"

_"I don't want you to go though, dad!" Decimus called out as his father turned to leave. The tall turian turned, looking down at his son with a rare hint of sadness in his eyes. Sighing, he crouched down, resting a hand on Decimus' shoulder._

_"I'll see you soon, Decimus; and remember, when things get tough, the hurdles you encounter will be no match for a titan, and you're the strongest titan there is, Dec." With another sigh, he stood up. "Tinatas arp non setarc."_

_Without another word, Karden stepped away, lumbering down the sidewalk and disappearing into the grey mist._

"Do you mean…?" Decimus whispered, unable to wrap his head around this suggestion.

"You can't fight your own nature, Decimus; and it was in your father's nature to want to do what was best for his people."

"So he…he used my Spectre status…it was him all along?"

Glasius nodded, before sighing and hanging his head. "Your father…he got me to kill Octavia. He wanted me to convince you to join him; but I had to disappear before I got the opportunity. It's…the only reason you became a Spectre in the first place…"

"So it's all been a lie…" Decimus muttered, staring down at his feet. "All of this…"

"I'm…I'm sorry, Decimus. I didn't want it to end this way…"

Decimus fixed an amber eye on the bleeding, wounded turian lying on the sand. He was still infuriated at his old mentor for his trickery and deceit; but he could tell by his features that he was being sincere.

"You can't fight your own nature, Decimus; and it's in your nature to do what's right." Glasius reached into his holster, unclipping his pistol from his hip. Decimus tensed up slightly, but he soon realized the weapon wasn't meant to be used on him. "Go after him. Maybe I was right, or maybe I was wrong. It doesn't matter."

"Why the change of heart?"

"I realized you fought your own nature. Your's used to be to fight; now it's to do what's for the good of the galaxy."

Glasius' pistol unfolded, and he crammed the barrel under his left mandible. "But Decimus, if you do manage to fight change, and you're victorious, there will still be one loose end. It's in your nature to do what's right; and the right thing to do will be to tie it up. You'll always be a criminal in the galaxy's eyes. You'll do nothing but upset the peace of mind of the rest of the galaxy; and you swore to protect that peace."

With that, the turian pulled the trigger. Decimus flinched slightly as his old mentor fell to the side, a gaping hole torn through his skull.

For a moment, he simply sat, staring at the sky and collecting his thoughts.

* * *

"What happened, Decimus?" Silphina asked, concerned.

She had done what she could for Kesh while Decimus was dealing with Glasius, but her supplies were limited. The salarian still needed medical help fast; according to Silphina, a few major organs had been punctured by the shot, beyond the capabilities of the basic medi-gel Silphina was using. So, they rushed him off to the nearest hospital, where he was lying unconscious, three turian doctors tending to his wounds.

"Glasius…he lied to me, Silph. He was the leader of that turian cult. They want to destroy the Alliance before they can claim the turian's mantle as the dominant military of the galaxy."

"How would they do that?"

"I don't know." Decimus sighed. "I'll have to ask my father when I see him."

"Your…?"

"He's behind this, Silph." Decimus whispered, looking down at his feet. "All of it."

She squeezed his arm lightly. "I'm sorry, Decimus. This must hurt."

"Yeah."

Their hushed conversation was cut off when one of the turian doctors stepped out of the emergency room, nodding to Decimus. "He's conscious again. Don't make him talk too long, though."

"Thanks."

Decimus and Silphina made their way into Kesh's room, where the salarian was lying on a small, white bed, his eyes frantically darting around the room. When he saw the turian and asari making their way towards him, however, he relaxed.

"Decim-" He coughed, a small bit of blood flying out of his mouth. "You've got to get me out of here, Dec."

Decimus stepped across the room as the two other doctors left, and glanced at Kesh's x-rays. He was suffering from some moderate internal bleeding, along with a damaged spine. He was likely paralyzed, Decimus thought grimly.

"We can't, Kesh." Silphina sighed, as if reading Decimus' grim thoughts. "Your spine got hit. You might not notice it being tied to that bed and all, but you're going to be paralyzed."

"Wh-what!?" Kesh barked, his features indicating he was attempting to struggle. "I can't be! Damn it, it's not supposed to end like this!"

"I'm sorry, Kesh." Decimus muttered, putting a hand on the salarian's shoulder. "I think you'll have to sit this one out."

Kesh sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I was supposed to be there…"

"I know. You've done a lot already."

The salarian opened his eyes, locking the orange orbs with Decimus' amber. "Where are you going anyway?"

"The Citadel. Glasius was the second in command of a turian cult intending to wipe out the Alliance before they overthrow the Hierarchy. My father…Karden, is in on it. He's responsible for all of this."

"The Citadel?" Kesh groaned, frustrated. "How are you supposed to get onto the Citadel without me?"

"We'll find a way." Decimus assured him. "Maybe I'll even try your fish thing again."

"Really?"

"No."

Kesh sighed, bashing his head against the bed's backboard in frustration. "You're going to try and assassinate a Councillor, Decimus. Nobody has successfully done that in centuries."

"I know."

Kesh shook his head, a look of realization on his features. "Oh no…you're not pulling the 'I'm expecting to die' card on me, are you?"

Decimus sighed, remembering Glasius' last words. He knew what he meant, but he wouldn't tell Kesh or Silphina just yet. "I'm not, Kesh."

"You better not." The salarian said sternly. "I…in my line of work, I make a lot of enemies, but not a lot of friends, Decimus. You're…you're all I have. Trying to know everything makes you forget the things that really matter sometimes…"

"I'll…I'll be fine, Kesh. I promise."

After a long moment of silence, Kesh nodded. "Be safe, Decimus."

Decimus nodded, his voice quivering slightly. "So…so long, Kesh."

Sighing, he stepped out of the room.

_Why am I making promises that I probably can't keep?_

* * *

Decimus sat in the passenger bay of Kesh's shuttle, staring out the window at the vast expanse of space as he usually did. His mind was overrun by memories, that he may have considered happy ones at one point, but now they all seemed bitter. He had been lied to and manipulated for the past eight years, and he hadn't even noticed. He usually thought 'What would Glasius do?' when approached with a situation, but now he simply didn't know. He couldn't even ask himself what his father would do anymore. He thought he'd gotten over this stage of questioning his place in the galaxy, but now what? He couldn't help it when every lesson he had ever learned was potentially a manipulative lie.

He felt Silphina settle down next to him, and he lowered his gaze from the window. "Before you ask, I just realized one of my closest friends was lying to me, had to say goodbye to my other friend who may potentially die, and now I'm off to kill my father. So no, I'm not okay."

"I know, Decimus."

"Do you?" Decimus muttered. He quickly regretted being so cold to her; at this point, she was his anchor to reality, the only thing keeping him from snapping. He'd only known the asari Spectre for a short time, but he had to admit, he felt closer to her than he had with anyone in the past; and that was what confused him. What was he feeling here? Was it that 'love' feeling he'd never become acquainted with?

"Sorry, Silph." Decimus sighed. "Just…a lot on my mind."

_Since when did I start calling her Silph anyway?_

"I've said this before, but don't drive yourself crazy about this. None of this is your fault."

"Silph…I was made a Spectre simply because my father wanted me to join his little cult. He got Glasius to fill my mind with propaganda and mistrust of humans. How did I not see through that?"

"None of us are perfect, Decimus. I doubt anyone else would've done any better in your position."

"Maybe I was just so…lonely at the time I jumped at the opportunity to make a friend, even if it was the wrong one."

"Lonely?"

Decimus locked eyes with Silphina for a moment. "When I was a kid, nobody took any notice of me. The few friends I've made over the past few years have all disappeared. Everyone seems to do that around me. It's like I'm cursed. Which is why-" He cut himself off before he could finish his sentence.

"Which is why what?"

Decimus sighed. "Which is why you probably feel that I'm pushing you away. I'll admit, whatever you're feeling I'm probably feeling too, but I don't want to-"

He stopped speaking as Silphina leaned in closer, resting her head in the space between Decimus' shoulder and neck and holding onto his arm tightly. He stood frozen for a second, before tilting his head to the side and relaxing.

"Thanks…Silph. For everything."

They sat there in silence for about an hour, merely enjoying each other's presence. Decimus was torn between wanting this and not wanting it; Silphina meant a lot to him, he'd never felt so attached to a single person in his whole thirty six years of life. However, he couldn't help but think back to Glasius' final words once again. People like him never got to truly walk away from their fate. This surprising love he had developed for the asari would lead to nothing but pain in the future, he knew it.

_If you let everything go, what's the point of doing any of this? Who are you doing this for? _Silphina's voice echoed through his head.

Opening his eye, he looked down at the asari Spectre resting peacefully against him. She was in a deep sleep, a hint of a smile lingering in the corners of her mouth. The aura of toughness she usually had on was gone, replaced by one of complete innocence. It was an odd sight, but also a comforting one.

With something between a smile and a yawn, he tilted his head to the left again, resting his forehead against Silphina's and falling into a deep sleep. For the first time in what seemed like years, his subconscious mind wasn't plagued by dreams and nightmares of times come and gone. He didn't know how much time he had left; but it was good to know that he'd enjoyed at least a bit of the time he had.

* * *

Decimus sighed in relief as he crawled through the end of the tunnel.

After a long time spent debating how to get onto the Citadel, he had decided on using the opposite method to the way he had escaped the last time. About four hours ago, he had contacted Brennus; the shaken turian living down in the Foundations had been reluctant at first, but after a bit of convincing, he had agreed to hire the local duct rats to open the vents leading to the outer hull so Decimus could clamber through. Silphina, upon Decimus' insistence, entered the proper way. Nobody knew about her association with the supposedly rogue turian Spectre; she could come and go as she pleased; she hadn't approved of the idea, but Decimus didn't want her to get into trouble in case they were caught.

Groaning, he staggered to his feet, cramped from once again crawling through the thin shaft for an hour. After sitting down for a moment to rest, he made his way across the collection of maintenance catwalks and emerged into the Foundations. As always, the air was thick with a crimson smog, and the place reeked from the Keeper vats that were stored in the Citadel's lower level, along with the sweat and waste of the usually scummy inhabitants of the place. However, Decimus wasn't as repulsed as he was the last time he had entered the miserable slum; seeing Omega again had likely improved his tolerance.

Half walking half jogging, he made his way past the forest of protein vats and towards the civilized area of the Foundations. He wanted to thank Brennus in person for his assistance, maybe even get him to help. However, he didn't want to force the old veteran to do anything if he didn't want to; the past weeks spent battling with his own fragile state of mind had given him a new appreciation and sympathy for what Brennus had been through, unlike the last time he had spoken with him.

He turned the corner, approaching the tower of rusty containers that Brennus called home. It looked mostly the same as last time; except the crowd of shady aliens gathering around it was gone. The place was deserted, and Decimus usually took that as a bad sign. Suspicious, he climbed the ladder, stepping up onto the hard metal floor of Brennus' 'apartment,' and doubling back at what he saw.

The frail turian was leaned up against the far wall, multiple splatters of blue blood dappling every corner of his container. A crooked blade jutted out from his chest; one that he recognized at once. The same bone-handled knife that Stralk had used to gouge Decimus' eye out.

"Brennus!" Decimus barked, ambling forward and settling down next to the turian. "Brennus!"

The scrawny man opened his single eye with a gasp. The human sock he had usually used as an eyepatch was gone, leaving a bloody, open sore visible.

"Brennus! What happened?"

"They…they tr-tracked the transmission you sent…" Brennus stuttered, obviously struggling for breath. "A…a krogan, came down…asked where you were…they hurt Brennus, like they always do…"

"Hold on, I'll get you some medi-gel!" He reached into his coat pocket, frantically searching for a container.

"I…I told h-him you were headed to the wards. The docking bay…." He coughed, clutching the blade still sticking out from his chest. He couldn't remove it yet; he hadn't found any medi-gel in his frantic search of his pocket.

"D-did I make a mistake?" Brennus choked.

"No, you didn't." Decimus replied, cursing under his breath when he realized his search for medi-gel was in vain. "Even the best of us make mistakes, and so far, you've still made none."

The turian's eye widened, as if he was beginning to accept Decimus' claim. "Not…my fault…Allovera…Leeandrus, none of them…"

"That's right, friend." Decimus told him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

The frail turian smiled. "It…it will be good to see them again."

Realizing what he meant, Decimus replied with a bittersweet nod. "Yeah…put in a good word for me, alright? Tell them…tell them I'm sorry, for…for messing up."

Brennus nodded. "Maybe one day we'll all see eachother again…"

_Maybe sooner than you think…_

"I'm sure we will, Brennus. It's…it's been an honor."

Brennus nodded, and with a smile and a contented sigh, he peacefully closed his single eye. For a moment, Decimus sat in silence, waiting until the frail man's breathing stopped.

"Goodbye, Brennus." He sighed.

Rising to his feet, he clenched his fists in anger. Brennus was innocent, and he had dragged him into his stupid affairs, and he was killed because of it. He was about punch a wall in fury when he realized something: Stralk had been tracking their communications, which must have meant he'd heard Silphina speaking as well.

Cursing out loud, he reached for his communicator.

"Silph! Silph!"

There was a long break of silence before the asari's voice crackled through.

"Decimus…" She whispered. "That krogan…he was waiting for me. He has a lot of mercs with him, too many for me to handle by myself."

"Hold on, I'll be right there!" Decimus barked.

"Don't you dare." Silphina hissed. "I've looked around the Presidium. Karden is boarding a shuttle, and judging by some chatter he's headed to a 'diplomatic meeting' at Arcturus Station. That's the main command center for the Alliance, Decimus. Forget about me, please!"

Decimus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts.

_**To be continued…**_


	13. The Truest Redemption

_**Well, this is it. The grand finale. I'll have an epilogue after this, so stay tuned.**_

* * *

Silphina inhaled deeply, flicking the safety off the light, asari made shotgun she had clutched tightly in her hands. She was hunkered down in a small apartment building in the Presidium's residential district, where she had retreated after discovering Stralk and his mercenaries were onto her. She didn't expect to evade them in here, but it would at least give her time to prepare. Crouched at the end of the small, red carpeted hallway, she could hear at least a dozen heavy boots clambering up the stairs below her. She doubted they were stupid enough to come rushing down a hallway with no cover, however, so she poked her head around the corner and took aim.

After about four minutes, she saw a human man poke out of the doorway at the far end of the hall. Not even thinking twice, she fired; one of the shells collided with the man's skull, sending him soaring backwards, a trickle of blood and grey matter cascading down the now dented window behind him. One of the other mercs cursed, and a batarian and two salarians stormed into the hallway, guns blazing. Silphina swore out loud as one of the shots peppered the floor directly in front of her, and she slid back into cover.

Breathing hard, she gathered up some strength for a biotic attack, and rolled out of her cover position, lashing her hand forward as if she was trying to throw something. A wave of cobalt energy thundered down the hallway like a freight train, swatting the three mercs aside. She quickly fired three bursts from her hip, finishing off the winded men rolling on the ground in a cloud of green and red blood.

Her weapon overheated after her small barrage, so she once again dove back behind the far wall. This gave her attackers the chance to make another charge; this time sending several troops thundering down the narrow hallway. One of them, a human woman, fired a flurry of assault rifle rounds near her cover, making peeking out impossible.

_When you can't fight back, disappear._

She clearly remembered one of the first lessons ever taught to recruits in the asari huntresses; there is always a way out of any situation, if you know where to look. Huntresses were stealth operators; they relied on clever tactics, flanking, and ambushes to win wars, not full out assaults. Silphina guessed at least one of those would be required if she was to survive this skirmish.

Trying to stay silent, she slid the door on the right side of her open, slipping inside and shutting it behind her. She could still hear the mercs firing wildly at where she used to be, along with the muffled screams of residents of the apartment she had just slid into; there were two asari crouched behind the bed on the far side of the room, looking terrified. When they saw the Spectre logo on her armor's shoulder plate, however, they muffled their cries.

Walking on her toes, she crept over to the window that would open to the hallway the mercs were in, before raising the butt of her shotgun and smashing it into the glass. It shattered, and all seven of the mercs turned their heads at the sound. Before they could raise their weapons, however, Silphina released another wave of dark energy, sending two of the three mercs careening into the far wall, and knocking over the third.

"Useless little pyjaks…" A krogan voice growled. "What the fuck are they paying you for?"

When she heard Stralk's heavy feet advancing down the hall, she crouched down again, slithering out of the apartment room and back into the hall, retreating to another row of doors. There was a sickening crack as the krogan snapped the neck of the last remaining merc, before lumbering around the corner.

"Come out, you little asari bitch." Stralk growled, firing his shotgun into the air. "There's nowhere left to hide."

Breathing hard, Silphina slid into her cover further. She wouldn't stand a chance in a straight up fight; she'd seen what the massive krogan had done to Decimus, and she'd have to wait a while before flaring up her biotics again to avoid exhaustion. The odds didn't seem to be in her favor.

"I'm going to enjoy snapping your delicate little back, asari." Stralk sneered, once again firing his shotgun into a wall. "We'll see just how flexible your species really is…"

Trying to supress her heavy breathing, she desperately glanced around the room for an escape route. The only staircase was straight through Stralk, and there were no windows on this side of the building, being built into the Presidium's walls.

At this point, it was obvious Decimus wasn't coming to help. She was glad he chose to pursue his father rather than her, but she couldn't help but feel a slight pang of regret in her gut. She was still in her maiden years; she would've had at least seven centuries of life ahead of her had it not been cut so short. It was selfish, but she couldn't help but sigh as she stepped out of cover, and approached the krogan slowly sauntering down the hallway.

"Good girl…" The krogan snarled, turning to face her.

Before she could say anything, the krogan lunged forward, swinging an armored fist in her direction. She just managed to dodge, before lunging forward and delivering a sharp kick to Stralk's midsection. The krogan grunted, stepping back slightly until he drove his forehead forward. The hard, bony crest crashed into Silphina's, and she fell backwards, her vision now clouded by her own purple blood trickling into her eyes. She shook her head, trying to spring to her feet, but her efforts were squandered when Stralk stomped down on her leg, shattering her knee instantly.

Biting her lip in agony, she was helpless to resist as Stralk wrapped his clawed hand around her throat, dragging her across the red carpeted floor and slamming her against the far wall, grinning at her like a varren about to have a feast.

The krogan leaned in close, snarling in her ear. "What do you know about the Councillor's plan?" He snarled, his rank breath washing over her.

She didn't reply, just spat in his general direction, a small bit of blood landing on the krogan's crest. Snarling, he smashed his forehead into hers again. "ANSWER ME!"

She tried to speak, her words slurred by the large amount of blood gathered up in her mouth from biting her tongue. "G-go to hell."

Bellowing in rage, Stralk tossed the asari against the wall opposite from them. She crashed into it with another cry of pain.

"Was it Decimus? Decimus is dead! Was it you who killed Agent Ducramius!?"

Silphina shook her head, her vision beginning to close into tunnels.

Snarling, the krogan stepped forward. "Fine. I'm going to gut you, just like I did Decimus, and that pathetic little turian down in the-"

"I don't think that would be a particularly good idea, Stralk." A voice chimed in behind the krogan.

The massive creature's eyes widened at the sound. "Impossible…"

"I must say, you've been awfully unkind to the one who got you out of that cell all those weeks ago." Decimus said coolly, stepping forward with his shotgun at the hip. "I mean, I'm not asking for hugs or anything, but some gratitude would be nice."

The krogan growled, rising to his feet slowly. "You turians sure like to talk big, don't you?"

"Do we? I'm sorry. I can't hear you over the genophage we bombed your species with."

Stralk's narrowed his eyes, his lip curling in barely contained rage.

"Come on big guy, I'm in a hurry here."

Bellowing in fury, Stralk lunged forward, batting the shotgun out of Decimus' hand. The krogan attempted to follow it up with an uppercut, but Decimus was quicker. He darted under his arm, delivering a sharp punch to the fleshy weak spot under Stralk's neck. The krogan roared in frustration, lashing out with his balled fist yet again. Decimus rolled under it, and shoved his boot into Stralk's back, sending him toppling forward.

Roaring, the krogan sprung to his feet, batting the turian aside with the back of his hand. Decimus slammed into the wall, denting it slightly, and ducked down just in time to slip away from Stralk's fist, which careened towards him and smashed right through the wall. Grunting, Decimus pushed forward with his elbow, pushing Stralk out of the way and giving him time to roll forward and grab his shotgun.

He fired off three bursts as the krogan marched towards him, each bouncing off the massive beast's kinetic barriers. Roaring, he slapped the weapon out of his hand yet again, but before he could follow up the attack, Decimus lunged forward, tackling Stralk to the ground by his midsection. Growling, the turian unclipped his Paladin, intent on shoving it under the krogan's neck and firing, but before he could, Stralk grabbed him by the arm, throwing him off of him and planting a strong punch in the turian's gut.

"Like the rest of your race, you're better talkers than you are fighters." Stralk hissed, grabbing the winded Decimus by the back of the head. "I don't know how you survived the last time, but this time I'm going to look you in the eye while I watch your life ebb away…"

He lifted the turian up to his level, locking his cold, orange eyes with Decimus' amber.

"Goodbye, Decim-"

Moving fast, Decimus reached into his coat, withdrew Stralk's bone handled blade, and plunged it into the krogan's eye. The massive beast howled in pain, and Decimus twisted it, lodging it in further until it punctured the krogan's brain. A geyser of orange blood and gore erupted from the wound when Decimus withdrew it, only to shove the blade forward again and slide it into Stralk's neck, severing an artery while the krogan bellowed in sheer agony, his voice now muffled by blood.

Grunting, Decimus kicked out of Stralk's grasp, and watched as he fell to his knees, his own blade still awkwardly lodged into the fleshy patch of skin beneath his chin. The krogan looked up at him with his now single, bloodshot eye, an expression of disbelief on his features, before falling forward, his pool of orange blood mixing with the purple trickle coming from Silphina.

"That…" Decimus panted, watching the krogan fall. "Was for Brennus, you son of a bitch."

_Silphina…_

Stepping over the krogan's body, he crouched down next to the asari leaned against the hallway. Her head was lulled to the side, but her chest was still heaving and she had a pulse. He frantically searched through the asari's side pack, pulling out a container of medi-gel and quickly applying it to her wounds. When he was done, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her slightly.

"Silph?" He cried, desperately trying to wake the asari up. "Silphina!"

When she didn't respond, he cursed, and scooped her up in his arms, jogging out of the apartment. A few nervous residents poked their heads out of their doorways, but ducked back inside when they saw the cloaked turian ambling down the hall, a wounded asari delicately clutched in his arms. The more time he spent here, the more time he gave his father to escape, but he couldn't leave Silphina behind. Huerta Memorial hospital was just down the block and up the elevator; he could be there in five minutes if he was swift.

A few pedestrians cast him nervous glances as he made his way across the various walkways and bridges on the Presidium; a few even recognized him, screaming and running off to alert the authorities. Decimus didn't care; right now, all that mattered to him was getting Silphina to safety.

He fumbled to turn on the elevator with his elbow when he reached it, impatiently glancing around the alley as it descended. When the door finally opened, he darted inside, shutting the doors manually and setting it to head for Huerta Memorial. The ride only took about five minutes, but to Decimus, it felt like a century.

When he finally reached the large, joint-species hospital, he ambled inside, budging a few other patrons out of the way and resting Silphina on one of the medical beds.

"D-Decimus?" He heard a weak voice mutter. The turian looked down to see the asari flicking her icy blue eyes open. "Wh-where are we?"

"Huerta Memorial." Decimus replied. "They'll take care of you."

"Decimus…why didn't you go after Karden?" She murmured, her tone slightly accusing.

"I couldn't just leave you behind, Silph. You know that." He reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. "I'm going after the Councillor now."

"B-"

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself, Silph." Decimus said firmly, looking the Spectre straight in the eyes.

"Dec, I-"

"_Promise me!" _He pleaded, clasping her hand even tighter.

"I…I will." Silphina said, surprised by the usually cold turian's burst of emotion.

Decimus closed his single eye, before resting his forehead against hers in a turian sign of affection. "Goodbye, Silph. I lo-I'll…I'll miss you."

"What do you mean you'll-"

_There will still be one loose end. It's in your nature to do what's right; and the right thing to do will be to tie it up…_

Decimus lowered his gaze, inhaling deeply. "Goodbye, Silph."

He turned away from her as a team of doctors hurried over, still feeling a lump in his throat. There were things he had wanted to say to her before departing; but he didn't think he could form words at the moment.

Karden was likely using the private docking bay reserved for important government officials, which was on the other side of the Presidium. He was likely already off the station, but Decimus tried to remain optimistic as he smashed a skycar's window open and clambered inside.

* * *

Saren Arterius sat patiently on one of the Presidium's upper balconies, his feet dangling over the perilous drop to the water below. He gazed out at the station like a hawk stalking its prey, a turian Legionary model sniper rifle resting at his side, and his eyes beginning to burn from the station's sterile white color scheme.

Saren had to admit, his current assignment was an odd one. The mission details were simple; Councilor Karden was leaving the station, and he needed someone to cover his shuttle's path. That wasn't odd in itself; what seemed off to Saren was the sheer size of the Councilor's escort. Twelve of his fellow Spectres were similarly stationed at all the entrances and vantage points in this district, along with more than three dozen C-Sec officers. The details had been slim at best, but Saren's intuition was better than they gave him credit for. This had something to do with Decimus Maxus.

If Saren hadn't been so wrapped up in the fallout of his mission with the human, Anderson, he most likely would've been sent after his fellow turian Spectre instead of the asari, T'Vael; who, judging by the fact Decimus was still alive, was likely a traitor as well. At first, Saren had been repulsed by the older turian's actions. He'd met him on several occasions in the past, and each time he'd shown no signs of going rogue. However, despite his initial revulsion at his traitorous turian brethren, he was beginning to respect him. Especially when he realized what he had gone rogue _for_.

The story had been leaked just hours ago; the attacks on Judea, the kidnapped human ambassador, and the batarians, had all been done by a pro-turian cult dedicated to wiping out the Alliance before they could do the same, and Decimus was at the helm. Judging by the article, it was obvious Karden heavily opposed the goals his son's organization was pursuing, which was likely what him leaving the station was about; and why it was so heavily guarded. Decimus might want to silence his most powerful adversary while he had the chance, before the turian Councilor could make a deal with the humans to go after Decimus. If Saren didn't think he'd need his Spectre status in the future, he'd likely be in on Decimus' plan himself; but the Alliance wanted Decimus dead, and so did the Council, and he didn't have the luxury of disobeying their orders. Not yet.

So far, nobody had come through the area Saren was patrolling; it would be obvious if they did, the area was completely locked down. Any shuttle that passed through would have to be Decimus; and after several more minutes of waiting, one did zoom into sight, roaring over the turian Spectre's head. Cursing, Saren scrambled to his feet, sprinting to his shuttle and jabbing his thumb at his communicator.

"Councillor, this is Arterius. Target is heading your way, fast. I'm breaking off in pursuit."

Not even waiting for a response, Saren settled down in the shuttle, turned the ignition, and rose up into the air, zooming forward to catch up to his fellow Spectre.

* * *

Decimus' gaze was locked straight ahead as he pushed his skycar's gas as far as it could go, roaring through the vacant area of the Presidium at his vehicle's maximum speed. His father had a massive head start on him; but several C-Sec vehicles had broken off in pursuit. It could just be because he was quite obviously speeding, but judging by the fact that they had been just _waiting _there for him, and how the area had quite obviously been evacuated, he had the impression they were expecting him. Which meant they were still expecting him to go after the Councillor. Karden had obviously grown suspicious after Glasius stopped checking in, along with Stralk's warning.

He could hear sirens far behind him as he veered the car down, just managing to maneuver the vehicle at such a high speed. Two of the white cars in pursuit weren't so quick, however, and they collided with one of the Presidium's balconies; the force of impact practically disintegrating the vehicles, and dropping the crushed shells into the water below.

The third skycar, this one not bearing the traditional C-Sec colors, coasted up beside him, attempting to maneuver in front and cut him off. Cursing slightly when he realized his pursuer's shuttle had far superior speed, he violently shunted to the side, colliding with the opposing vehicle with a blunt crash. That didn't end the pursuit however, and the black tinted car reappeared straight behind him.

Grunting in frustration, Decimus was about to ram into the other car's right bumper again, before he saw it; a long, black skycar, usually reserved for government officials, escorted by at least four C-Sec shuttles. They were just a few minutes away from the docking bay; if he didn't get down to them now, he'd likely never get the opportunity again.

Setting his car to auto-pilot, he reached for the right door's handle, wrenching it open and leaning out, pistol in hand. Aiming was next to impossible at such a high speed, but after at least a dozen attempts one of his shots hit home. The glass on his pursuer's left window shattered, leaving the cockpit completely open to the air. Supressing the cold feeling in his feet as he dangled over the water dozens of metres below him, he jumped.

He landed in the driver's seat with a sharp grunt, and reached up with his armed hand, slamming his pistol's barrel down into the forehead of the turian driver, who he soon recognized as Saren Arterius. The man groaned in supressed pain as the hard metal weapon crashed down hard enough to draw blood, but he managed to bat the weapon out of his face before Decimus could pull the trigger. The larger turian was quick enough not to let Saren follow that up, however, and he brought his forehead careening down on the younger Spectre's carapace, knocking him unconscious from the force of the head-butt.

Pushing the blacked-out turian into the passenger seat, Decimus took the only course of action he could see; he veered the shuttle down, and set it on a course to collide with the Councilor's shuttle. There was a good chance the impact would kill him, but when the target was in a vehicle flanked by armed guards, it was the only thing to do if you didn't have heavy weapons available. He tensed up slightly as the Presidium flashed by him, wind blowing in his face from their rapid descent. When he was just a metre away from the black tinted shuttle, he held his breath.

And then the world went black as his car smashed into the hard metal surface like a speeding bullet.

* * *

_The only thing that assures there won't be a next time is death, and you haven't died yet._

Decimus' eye snapped open with a start. He got a quick glimpse of the Presidium's sky before he had to shut them again, letting out a fit of coughs as smoke filled his lungs and made his eye water.

_Oh…you're not pulling the 'I expect to die' card on me, are you?_

Groaning slightly, he tried to move his legs, only to find they were buried under a large piece of shrapnel. He could see Saren's still unconscious form a few yards away, his armor slightly charred from the fire that was crackling where the shuttle used to be.

_No hurdle is too large for a titan, Decimus; and you're the strongest titan there is. _

Groaning in agony, Decimus reached forward, wrenching the jagged piece of metal off his legs. He quickly pushed himself out of the wreckage, and he lay on his back, panting.

_Kid, the best advice I can give you is if you start something, you damn well better see it through._

Gritting his teeth, he rolled onto his stomach, glancing around the area. They had crashed in a Presidium storefront, just a few blocks away from the private docking bay. The impact of the two shuttles had completely ruined the shop; pieces of rubble and shrapnel littered the ground, with fire threatening to burn down every bit of space that it didn't. His Paladin pistol was a few yards ahead of him, slightly blackened from the heat. With another pained groan, he reached forward with his left arm, pulling himself across the smooth, Presidium floor. He wrapped his hands around the handle and made sure it was still functional, before attempting to push himself to his feet; instead, he collapsed again, a stinging pain shooting up from his ankles all the way to his neck.

_You know something my father always told me? He said 'failure only gives you more reason to win the next time.' _

Holding his breath, he slowly straightened his legs, biting back a roar of agony. Besides the strain on the bones, he'd been badly burned; moving anything hit him with all kinds of pain.

"Get it onto the shuttle! Make sure it isn't damaged!" A voice called, one that he instantly recognized as his father.

_One step…_

He moved a leg forward, limping up the small set of stairs, before breaking into a strange cross between a jog and a gait. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw two turians; clad in the familiar black armor, attempting to lift a massive computer-like device onto a turian shuttle, with Karden standing nearby, hacking his lungs out from the smoke.

Holding his breath, Decimus lifted his arm, and fired two shots in the direction of the turian guards. Despite his shaky aim, his shots hit home; cleaving through the temple of one and the neck of the other. Wincing in pain, he moved the barrel to his father, who stood still, shocked to see his own son standing charred and wounded before him.

After a moment of tense silence, his father spoke. "Hello, Decimus."

"Hello sir." Decimus replied, keeping his pistol raised.

The tall, charcoal-black skinned man shook his head, his amber eyes locked on the floor. "I always hoped we wouldn't meet like this…"

"We didn't have to." Decimus shot back.

His father sighed, lifting his gaze to his own child, a weapon poised to cleave a hole through his chest.

"If you didn't want any of this to happen, you wouldn't have abandoned me! You wouldn't have got Glasius to kill Octavia and fill my mind with your _stupid _fucking propaganda! You wouldn't have used me as a tool! You wouldn't have fucking _lied _to me!" Decimus' voice was dripping with venom as he pointed his Paladin at the miserable man before him. He barely even wanted to call him his father anymore.

"I know, son…" Karden sighed. "I know…"

"Do you? Now don't tell me you're fucking sorry, because you'd be lying. You're always _fucking _lying to me! You're damn lucky I want you to justify yourself, or I'd have pulled the damn trigger by now!"

His father sighed again, his eyes downcast to the ground. "You know the details. I'm sure Glasius told you."

"Yeah, and his plan didn't make any damn sense. Do you really think the other Council races will just let you declare war on the Alliance with no justifiable reason?"

"Damn it, Decimus, can't you see?!" Karden barked, stepping forward slightly. "We wouldn't need their approval, because they're going to take the first shot. That's what the AI is for! It has knowledge of Alliance ship computers, databases, and defense systems; if we uploaded it to their fleet, we could make them fire on us!"

Decimus narrowed his eye. "Then you'd have control of their ships…you'd have won as soon as it started…"

Karden nodded. "Don't you see? It's so simple! The casualties would be minimal, there's no need to stop me, Decimus!"

_Why am I trying to stop him, anyway? I don't like humans…_

"You've never been fond of the humans, son. Why are you trying to save them?" Karden continued, as if reading his thoughts.

_As the turian paced towards them, the woman sprung up, flailing her arms in a sudden burst of courage and retaliation. Decimus squeezed the trigger without even flinching, stepping over her bloody mess of a corpse without even a pang of remorse._

Decimus narrowed his eye at the memory.

"_Help…please!" Came a weak cry. _

_Decimus looked around for the call's source, a young human woman, crawling out of the wreckage, her body charred and bleeding. She must have been in the nearby bathroom when the explosion went off. She was halfway out the open security door when a burning piece of rubble fell from the ceiling, landing on her leg and snapping it with a brutal crack._

"Because I'm not a savage. The galaxy is a tough place, but is that any excuse to cause needless pain and suffering for someone else, just because you're going through it?"

Karden sighed.

"Can't we just hold onto the belief that the humans will think the same?"

"They're wretched, uncultured creatures, Decimus, you can't-"

"Are they?" Decimus snapped. "If I remember correctly, _we _attacked _them _first!"

Karden narrowed his eyes slightly. "Since when did you become a human sympathizer?"

"I'm not; but unlike you, _father." _He spat out the last word like an insult. "Unlike you, I still have common decency. I've done some bad things in my time, sure, but you know what caused me to do them?"

His father lowered his gaze, knowing where this was going.

"You. I grew up without a father, but unlike some of the people who have to do that, I grew up knowing he was out there somewhere, not giving a vorcha's ass about me!"

There was a long moment of silence after his harsh words, and Decimus soon realized Karden was nearly crying. The large, powerful man Decimus had always compared to a titan in his youth was breaking down like a quarian with a stomach ache. It was an uncomfortable sight.

"I never wanted any of this, son…" Karden murmured, sliding down and taking a seat against the wall.

"Since when did you start to care?" Decimus spat.

"I tried to see you…but after so long…I just couldn't face you. The reason I got Glasius to try and recruit you was because I didn't want _this _to happen…" His father shook his head. "But when he was discovered…I…I had to let you go…"

Decimus looked straight at the miserable man, and lowered his weapon. "If you let everybody and everything go….what's the point of doing any of this? Who are you doing it for?"

His father looked up at him, his eyes still shining slightly.

Sighing, Decimus sat down as well. "I remember every time I stepped off the shuttle on leave, I had this…fantasy, I guess. I'd imagine I'd step out of Secidar's spaceport, and…you'd be there. Waiting for me. You wouldn't say anything, you'd just smile…and I'd smile back, and that would be that. All of the problems we might have had once would be in the past."

His father sighed loudly, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right, Decimus. Maybe…maybe the only reason I want to have power, is because I don't have anything else that's _worth _anything…"

"Then give up, sir."

Karden shook his head, looking even guiltier than he already did. "I can't, Decimus. Because me giving up wouldn't solve anything."

"What do you mean?"

"They story's gone public, son. For all the Alliance and the rest of the galaxy knows, you're behind all this, not me. The only way they're going to forgive this, is if you're dead. I can't change that. Our alliance is still shaky at best; it would take just one stroke to cut it…."

"And if they found out you were actually behind it…there would be war regardless…" Decimus muttered.

Karden nodded. "I'm sorry, Decimus."

"I'm going to have to take the hit."

His father didn't reply, just looked at his feet.

Decimus inhaled deeply, trying to wrap his head around this. Glasius was right. He would always be a criminal in the galaxy's eyes. If he was to achieve what he had set out to do, he would have to be. It was either that, or war. If he didn't take the blame, all of this would've been for nothing.

"Kill me then, Decimus. Destroy that AI, all of it. Then you're going to have to do what's necessary."

"There is one thing you can do…" Decimus muttered. "Silphina T'Vael. The asari Spectre. Let the galaxy know she's innocent."

After a short pause, his father nodded, and lifted his omni-tool, clearing Silphina's name. "I…I was a bad father, Decimus. It's not much, but maybe…maybe I can make up for that…"

Decimus rose to his feet, slowly raising his pistol's barrel and resting it on Karden's forehead. The older turian closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "I'm…I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be. I ruined your life; I don't even deserve mine anymore."

His arm quivering slightly, Decimus closed his eye, and pulled the trigger. He heard Karden's body slump to the ground, a hole torn through his skull. His eye still closed, he pointed his pistol at the large computer device, and planted six shots into it before he was sure it was destroyed beyond repair.

Opening his eye, he saw something had fallen from his father's body; a small holo-still, still operational. The wounded turian crouched down, and picked up the familiar interface. It was the same holo-still that had been missing from Octavia's home, the one that depicted Karden, Decimus' mother, and a one-month old version of himself. His mother and father smiled at him through the picture frame, both of their expressions so innocent despite the situation at hand. Decimus didn't know why, but he found this reassuring when he rose to his feet as soon as he found a pistol was crammed at the back of his neck.

"So, you did it, Decimus. You killed your own father." Saren snarled, jabbing the weapon into the back of his head. "I would kill you here, but I want the galaxy to see you hanged."

"I thought you would be all for my 'destroy the humans' idea." Decimus said coolly, trying to act the part of the organization's leader.

"Maybe." Saren admitted. "But I have bigger plans. I'm going to watch as you die with yours."

Decimus sighed, managing to catch one last glimpse of his mother's smile before Saren whipped him with the butt of his pistol, sending the world into an opaque, black haze…

_**To be concluded...**_


	14. There'll Be Another Time

_**Epilogue**_

Decimus' eyes snapped open with a start.

He didn't know where he was, but this was obviously a dream. Or something like one, at least. He didn't recognize his surroundings; that said, there wasn't much to recognize. There was nothing but white, he was essentially standing on nothing and was surrounded by nothing but an endless, opaque white haze.

_Am I dead? They always said it would look different…_

Recollection of what had happened flooded back into the turian's mind. He had done it; Karden was dead, and he had averted galactic war. Although that came at a price; he would have to take the blame for the organization that started this mess. The last thing he remembered was Saren Arterius knocking him out cold.

Breathing hard, he ran his hand down his face, but recoiled slightly. He still had both his eyes, and all the scars that riddled his face were gone. He felt…young, fresh, not like someone who had gone through two weeks of stress. A feeling of rejuvenation filled the charcoal-hued turian. That was until his surroundings changed, and he was standing in a more familiar spot; the middle of nowhere in the Periculosum Desert. He had gotten lost here once when he was young; the brash and foolish child he was wandered off into the wastes out of anger, and hadn't returned for two days. This was the exact spot where he had collapsed from the heat, next to a shimmering reflection he had mistaken for a puddle. Luckily, the mirage hadn't been the end of him that day, but he was wondering if it would be now.

The revitalized feeling was gone as he ambled up a small dune, squinting slightly from Trebia's harsh glare, which would soon be gone, as the sun was setting behind the distant mountains. The desert was absolutely dead silent; he could see a few Jargumsun scavenger birds watching on a single, gnarled tree, their bald, cartilage covered heads bobbing slightly as they eyed the turian, anxious for a meal before they huddled together for the freezing cold night. The tree looked unusual; it didn't belong in this environment. The setting sun made it nothing but an eerie, black silhouette, almost like a moving painting.

This was obviously the same spot in the Periculosum where he had collapsed all those years ago, left as food for the Jargumsun until a band of nomads found him and brought him back to Secidar. He could see a band of them out in the distance; they had pitched up a small settlement under the shade of a dune, clambering inside to escape the cold. Some of the Secidar region's native people had decided to stay away from civilization; the nomads of Secidar were one of the few examples of how the turians had lived before the industrial age. One of the cloaked, dark skinned turians noticed the man on top of the hill; he began to walk forward, moving slowly from the thick sand. Decimus stayed in place, watching as the nomad approached. Finally, he crested the hill and stood next to him, and that was when he realized the cloaked man hadn't noticed _him. _What had caught his eye was the small turian child lying still in the sand under Decimus' feet. The native took no notice of Decimus, just reached down, lifting the child up by the hand and guiding him towards their camp.

Decimus stood still for a second, watching the scene unfold. He was watching himself being rescued in third person; and it shocked him. Why would a man desperate to get indoors before the night time chill go out of his way to rescue a young city boy?

"Beautiful thing, isn't it?" A voice chimed in. "Gives one hope. There are good people out there, if you know where to look."

Decimus' gaze snapped to the side, and he saw Glasius sauntering towards him through the sand, taking his place next to him.

"Am…am I dead, Glasius?" Decimus asked, watching as his old mentor gazed out at the setting sun.

"Do you think you're dead?"

Decimus looked around. His surroundings looked real, although they had the slight tint that was common in the dreams that had plagued him over the past week.

"No…"

"Then you're not." Glasius chuckled, patting Decimus on the shoulder. "Your mind is only seeing what it wants to see. You're not feeling very motivated right now, so maybe a good show of kindness would help. Your mind recognizes that."

Decimus looked sideways at his mentor, a quizzical look on his face. "Where am I right now? I mean, in the real world."

"This isn't the real world?"

"You know what I mean."

Glasius smiled. "You're lying unconscious not far from here, in a high security prison located in Sarcanus."

"So I'm alive."

"Quite alive, actually."

"Then why are you here? You're dead. I'm just dreaming."

"I'm not here, Decimus. You're just seeing what you want to see."

Decimus tilted his head to the side, still not wrapping his head around this.

"You might be angry at me, kid, but I taught you a lot. Don't you think it would be fitting that I teach you one last lesson?"

Decimus nodded slowly, before looking back at the nomad man as he started a fire, heating up the young Decimus as the nighttime chill swept over the desert.

"You never learned that man's name. Nor did anyone else. He just did the right thing, and didn't bother taking credit for it. Sometimes the best deeds are the ones that go unnoticed."

"How…how is this…?"

"Nobody will know what you did, Decimus. But your soul will rest easy knowing you saved millions of lives with one simple action. That action may seem like a massive hurdle at the time, but remember this; no hurdle is too large for a titan."

"What do you…?" Decimus rose to his feet, intent on looking sideways in anger at his mentor's cryptic words, before he realized Glasius was gone, not even a pair of footprints where he used to be.

* * *

_**Sarcanus, Palaven**_

_**January 15**__**th**__**, 2166**_

Silphina tugged her jacket on tighter as the desert cold began to sweep over.

About a week had passed since Decimus had killed Councilor Karden; the news of his assassination hit the media like a storm; usually, something like this would've been covered up, but due to the recent leak that Decimus was supposedly behind the enigmatic turian cult, they had to calm the panicking public by stating the mastermind had been apprehended. However, the strange thing was that the leaked story had convicted her as well. She couldn't be certain, but she had a feeling Decimus had something to do with the fact that she was proven innocent.

After a week of searching in fear that Decimus had been killed then and there, she had finally found him; a maximum security prison located in Sarcanus, a large town north of Secidar, Decimus' hometown. The prison had a very sleek, modern feel to it; constructed out of the same streamlined, silver material found in Cipritine. It was obvious why they would build a prison here; any convict escaping on foot would have ten miles of desert on either side of them. Essentially, there was nowhere they could run, unless they were seasoned desert travellers.

She stepped inside the sliding door, striding across the grey, tiled floor towards the receptionist, a turian woman with her nose buried in a record book. Silphina knocked on the glass, and the turian looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm looking to see a prisoner." Silphina said.

"Ma'am, the prisoners here don't take visitors. Move along."

Silphina stayed where she was, crossing her arms. "I'm a Spectre."

The woman narrowed her eyes, opening her console to confirm her claim. When it beeped to indicate it was correct, she shrugged. "Alright, who?"

"Decimus Maxus."

The turian scratched the back of her neck, ruffling the plume of feathers female turians often wore in discomfort. "Decimus was due for execution two hours ago, miss."

Silphina's heart dropped. Not willing to believe he was dead, she stepped forward. "Is he…is he gone?"

The woman looked even more uncomfortable now. "Well…er, no. He escaped a few hours ago. We think it might have had something to do with the crippled salarian who showed up with a stockpile of Lysenthi fish. Disgusting, those things…"

"Do you know where he might have gone?" Silphina asked, her heart still pounding from thinking Decimus had already been executed.

"No idea. If you think you do, please let us know."

Silphina nodded, backing up and stepping out of the sliding door. As she pulled her coat on tighter to block out the cold, her omni-tool beeped, indicating there was a new message waiting for her. Intrigued, she lifted her arm, scrolling through her inbox until she found the one marked 'unread.'

_From: {Sender blocked}_

_To: Silphina T'Vael_

_While the sun burns our backs, we ride ever strong,_

_Soon, their kingdom, will fall!_

_From the mists of the mountains, comes a deafening call,_

_That echoes across the plains,_

_In this alien land we may not be one at home,_

_But soon this home shalt be ours!_

_{End of message.}_

Smiling slightly, Silphina half walked half jogged to her shuttle, knowing exactly what this meant.

* * *

Decimus sat with his head low, a cloak thrown over himself to block out the cold and to make sure nobody recognized him. The sun was beginning to rise again, but it was still freezing cold.

After about five hours of waiting, a shuttle landed down a few yards away from his hiding spot; a small bench located on the doorstep of one of Aunt Octavia's neighbours. The small overhang cloaked the seated turian in the shadows, assuring him that he wouldn't be seen by any passing pedestrians. He waited for another few minutes as Silphina stepped out of the small, blue skycar, looking around impatiently. Smiling to himself, he rose to his feet.

"Decimus!" Silphina shouted as soon as she saw him. She bolted forward, running straight into him and wrapping her arms around his midsection while she rested her head on his chest. Decimus stood frozen for a moment, before lowering his hand on the small of her back, leaning in close.

"Silph…"

"I thought you were dead, Decimus." Silphina sighed, relief in her voice. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Decimus' stomach twisted for a second at her words, knowing what he was going to have to tell her. "I'm…I'm offended, Silph. You know I'm harder to kill than that."

The asari smiled, closing her eyes as she enjoyed his embrace. "How's Kesh?"

"He's…" Decimus sighed, rubbing her on the back. "He's not all there…"

"I don't blame him." Silphina replied, looking up at him. "I'd be the same if I went through that."

Decimus nodded. "Yeah…"

Pulling away, Silphina looked him straight in the eye. "What are you going to do now? The galaxy still thinks you're a criminal, we could-"

"Silph…" Decimus sighed.

"We could hide, I know a few places…"

"Silph…"

"They'll never find us, no matter how hard they look…"

"_Silph!" _Decimus cried, putting his hands on her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "I can't!"

The asari looked up at him, a confused look in her icy blue eyes. "Wh-what?"

Decimus sighed, closing his single eye and hanging his head. "I'm…I'm going to turn myself back in. The only reason I escaped was…was to say goodbye to you…"

Silphina's eyes widened in surprise. "What? You can't! They were ordered to execute you!"

"I know. I'm counting on it." Decimus said, his voice quivering slightly.

Despite herself, Silphina felt a rogue tear cascade down her cheek when she realized what the tall turian was doing.

"Decimus…" She cried, letting a rare outburst of emotion past her usual demeanour as she lunged at Decimus again, pulling him close. "You…you can't do this!"

"Silph, if I don't, this would've all been for nothing." Decimus sighed into her ear. "The only way the Alliance is going to resign the peace treaties is if the perpetrator is dead. If they find out the most powerful man in the turian government was behind it…there'll be chaos. If I'm to truly finish my goal…I, I'll have to take the blame; and I'll have to die for it."

Silphina's fit of tears was now drenching Decimus' coat. After about four minutes, she pulled away, looking up at him through still-shining eyes. "That's not all, is it?"

Decimus tilted his head in curiosity.

"You think you'll be redeeming yourself, don't you?"

_She knows you too well…_

Decimus hung his head. "I've done a lot of bad things in my time, Silph. This…this is my chance to make up for that…"

Silphina sighed, leaning in again. She understood why this had to be done, but it didn't make her like it. "Are…are you afraid?"

"Of what?" Decimus asked as he closed his eye, resting his forehead on Silphina's as he ran his hand down her cheek.

"Well…to die, I guess…"

Decimus sighed. "I'm not afraid to die, Silph. I'm afraid of what comes after. If there really is an eternal spirit with a plan for us, what's his plan for me? Will that spirit really let me rejoin my mother, Octavia, Brennus…"

_Your father…_

"Or…or will I be doomed to suffer in purgatory for the rest of my days? Is that what I deserve?"

Silphina didn't know how to respond, so she squeezed his arm reassuringly. "You're a good man, Decimus. I think…I think you'll be able to see them again."

Decimus let out a bittersweet laugh. "I'm not a good man, Silph. I'm just a bad one that somehow developed that pain in the ass called feelings."

"But this will make up for it. You'll be dying so humans and turians you don't even know can live. Is there any greater redemption than that?"

"Maybe…"

Silphina linked his hands with hers, looking him straight in the eye. "There is one last thing we could do. Before you go…"

"What's that?"

Silphina lowered her gaze, focusing on their linked hands. "There's an asari way of saying farewell. It's a mental link, we can share memories with people we really care about…"

Decimus nodded. "Alright."

Smiling, Silphina leaned in close. "Close your eyes and relax…"

He obliged, shutting his eye and smiling slightly as Silphina leaned in close. He felt a sudden burst of rejuvenation shoot through him, as if every bit of stress and pain had just been filtered out of him. When he opened his eye and looked around, he saw Silphina, standing in the same place they were before, except with the Secidar sun setting rather than rising. She must have known he always loved watching Trebia set. Smiling as he watched the large, orange orb fall below the mountains, he felt Silphina rest her head on his shoulder.

"I…I love you, Silph." Decimus said firmly, pulling the asari in close. "If there really is something after this, I'll put in a good word for you."

"I love you too, Decimus." Silphina replied, looking up at him. They stood like that for almost half an hour, until the link ended, with them standing exactly where they were before, the sun beginning to crest the distant mountains.

The asari looked straight at him as she opened her eyes again, the icy orbs still clouded slightly by tears. "Goodbye, Decimus."

The turian pulled her in close one final time, before stepping away. "Goodbye, Silph. It's a big galaxy out there...may it be worthy of you."

Silphina watched, swiping a tear off her cheek as the turian turned slowly, his gaze locked to the ground as he sauntered away. Before he could make it past Octavia's home, however, he stopped.

"I always hoped I'd get to see one last Secidarian sunset…"

With that, the turian slung his bag over his shoulder, setting off to make the long trek across the desert on his way to Sarcanus. Silphina simply stood there, watching as he became nothing but a blur in the horizon, eventually disappearing as he stepped over a large dune.

Silphina returned to this very spot as often as she could over the course of her life; she and Kesh had remained in contact until the salarian mysteriously disappeared; some say he died of grief, others say one of his enemies got to him, but nobody really knew what happened to the eccentric information broker. That left Silphina; the only one who knew the truth about Decimus Maxus, who soon became known as one of the galaxies most notorious criminals. That never changed, and because of it, there was never a war.

Silphina lived the rest of her days as a Spectre, using her career to help deal with the empty feeling that constantly plagued her. She watched as people lived and died, alliances broke, she even survived the Reapers. After Saren went rogue and attacked the Citadel, Decimus faded out of the public's eye. He was a thing of the past, life went on, but Silphina never forgot. Eventually, at the age of seven hundred, she passed on, dying peacefully one night. Her death didn't cause much of a stir in the galactic community, but it was unlikely that Silphina would care. Before she died, her conscience was telling her that somewhere out there, Decimus was waiting for her. Her gut was telling her that her conscience was right; and over the years, Silphina had learned to trust its advice.

_**The End**_

* * *

_**Big thanks to everyone for reading, following along, and giving me feedback for this story. It has been an interesting thing to write, and I have to admit, I myself was upset to end the story of these characters I created. However, I believe in giving a story a conclusion that really feels final, so if I start another one, it'll have to be with another cast of OCs. I don't think I'd ever like a new character as much as I liked Decimus, but still...**_

**_Special thanks to my brother, (lambrawr) and my girlfriend for helping me proofread all this stuff. I love you guys, I don't know what I'd do without you._**

**_Thanks everyone. :)_**

**_-Sven Vernersen_**


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